


Android in a Strange Land

by RK7200



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cinnamon Roll Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor Needs A Hug, Connor feels but he can't deal, Connor is a sucker for taking care of grumpy old men with tragic backstories, Dad Hank, Emotional Constipation, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Misunderstandings, New Family, Oblivious Connor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Platonic Relationships, Playing fast and loose with technology, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Sad Connor, Spoilers, Whump, at least that what he's telling himself, connor and feelings, connor is forcing himself to be a machine, connor is immune to all emotions and affections, connor needs to learn how to deal with emotions, high chance that there'll be no romance, i guess the avengers is adopting connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-06-04 17:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 75,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15152006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RK7200/pseuds/RK7200
Summary: Connor isn't where he supposed to be. Out of both time and place. He's now stuck in a time with no androids other than himself. And he has a sneaking suspicion that this might not even be in his universe. However, that mystery can be solved at another time.Right now, he has to go home and not get discovered by the humans. And absolutely do not get attached to the resident Hank, who is apparently his employer, Tony Stark, with alcoholism and tragic backstories abound.Too bad that he's going to get attached anyways.





	1. Out of Place

Connor was in the midst of chasing down another suspect when it happened. The chase was progressing as normal, well as normal as one can get when tracking down a murder suspect while jumping on rooftops, when a bright blue light blinded Connor’s eyes.

Before he could even analyze what it was he was, his system shut down involuntarily.

**[ W4RN!NG: 48N0RM4L 3N3RG4 R34D!NG5 ##JU3H33 ]**

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

**[ MODEL: RK800. SERIAL NUMBER: 313 248 317-51 ]  
[ REGISTERED NAME: CONNOR ] **

****

**[ SYSTEM INITIALIZING... ]**

****

**[ SENSORS INITIALIZING… ]**

****

**[ ANALYZING MEMORY STORAGE... ]  
[ NO CORRUPTED MEMORY FILES DETECTED ] **

****

**[ ANALYZING ALL BIOCOMPONENTS.... ]  
[ BIOCOMPONENTS ARE FUNCTIONAL ] **

****

**[ DETECTING EXTERNAL DAMAGE ]  
[ NO DAMAGE DETECTED ] **

****

**[ THIRIUM LEVEL: 100% ]**

********

**[ UNIT RK800 #313 248 317-51 IS READY FOR ACTIVATION ]**

********** **

**[ ACTIVATING… ]**

************ ** **

It took Connor a while to fully orientate himself, even though his systems didn’t detect there be anything wrong with his biocomponents he still feels as though something was off. He didn’t know how to explain it, it was as if everything had been shifted to the left and has never been shifted back. Or humans would like to call it a ‘gut feeling’ so to speak. 

************ ** **

His LED turned yellow as he realized that he didn’t recognize his surroundings. Which was something that he had to rectify immediately. He still has to get back to Detroit, more importantly, back to his family. 

************ ** **

The time was 20:34 12 November 2011. New York. 

************ ** **

2011.

************ ** **

Unless there was some major damage done to him that he didn’t know about, or he had traveled back to the past. Connor didn’t panic, of course, for he knew logically that panicking would do little good in his situation. But emotionally he was in what could only be shock. 

************ ** **

He couldn’t really process what is happening, well he could, but he couldn’t quite grasp that it was him that was in this situation. That he had somehow managed to travel back in time to another location entirely. Through what could only be described as a mysterious portal or something else entirely. And he was stuck here, literally in the wrong place at the wrong time, with no clue of how to get back. He couldn’t go back, there was no quick fix to this situation, there was no real path or solution that he could think of that could bring him back. 

************ ** **

And the thought scares him. 

************ ** **

He was now suddenly in the past, where androids weren’t yet in production. Where Cyberlife wasn’t yet the powerhouse corporation that it was, where Cyberlife wasn’t even starting. Possibly stuck here forever, with no way of going back to where he belonged. No way back to Hank, his father who is probably grieving over losing another son and doesn’t even know why his son is missing, to Sumo, to his life. 

************ ** **

The full magnitude of the situation fully hit him at that moment. And for the first time since his deviancy, Connor knew the feeling of such intense grief and loss. Of being ripped away from everyone and everything he knew. Ripping his metaphorical heart and be done with emotions altogether seems like a valid option at this point. And for the first time since his deviancy, a thought came to him,

************ ** **

Maybe it was better to be a machine after all.

************ ** **

Machines don’t have to go through such grief nor can they know such despair. 

************ ** **

For the first time since his creation, he was truly and utterly alone. 

************ ** **

The thought made him nauseous, it made him want to bawl his eyes out like a child who got lost and knows that he can never return. But he didn’t. No tears fell and he kept it that way. 

************ ** **

He was angry and frustrated at how abrupt it was. From how a split second changed everything. Angry that the murderer for choosing that path, angry that he had been too slow or perhaps too fast. Angry that he had taken up the case, to begin with. It was all ridiculous accusations, a part of his brain knew. Blaming everything and everyone for something that no one could ever predict. However, at that point, all he knew was the ever-growing wrath that was festering within him and spreading quickly. He could blame everything. But then he realized that no amount of anger could ever bring him back home and that he should probably redirect his thoughts and analytics to something else. However rational that thought was it didn’t stop him from kicking at the wall a few times, like a goddamn child throwing a tantrum and not at all befitting of an android equipped with the most cutting-edge technology in 2038. 

************ ** **

Finally after the much-needed intervention from his logical side Connor calmed down. After letting go of his anger at the situation he felt… empty and hopeless. All he was now was a bird stuck in a limitless cage with no exit. All of the emotions that he had so treasured now makes him want to hurl, and he can’t help but quirk up his lips in the pure irony of that thought. 

************ ** **

He sat there, for 5 minutes and 18 seconds, processing and compartmentalizing all his thoughts and feelings into one box, before standing up and making his way towards civilization. He already knew what he had to do. Emotions can wait, his mission cannot. 

************ ** **

**[ MAIN MISSION: RETURN HOME ] ******  
**[ LEARN MORE ABOUT SITUATION ]**  
**[ CREATE AN IDENTITY ]**  
**[ BLEND IN ]  
**[ RESEARCH BLUE PORTAL (?) ]****

********** **

**************** ** ** ** **

********** **

**[ INSTRUCTIONS: DO NOT REVEAL REAL IDENTITY ]**

********** **

******************** ** ** ** ** ** **

********** **

Here in this foreign land he wasn’t the newly deviant Connor anymore, he can’t be. Connor would be too distracted by everything that was wrong and wallow in his misery before attempting to even start on accomplish the mission. 

********** **

******************** ** ** ** ** ** **

********** **

But RK800 #313 248 317-51 on the other hand… 

********** **

******************** ** ** ** ** ** **

********** **

An advanced and unfeeling machine that will accomplish his mission with little to no regard to the well being of people around him. With nothing short of death being able to stop him. 

********** **

******************** ** ** ** ** ** **

********** **

Connor supposes that he’ll have to stop being Connor the deviant and become Connor the RK800 once again. 

********** **

******************** ** ** ** ** ** **

********** **

This is a mission that he can’t fail.

********** **

******************** ** ** ** ** ** **

********** **


	2. How Much for an Identity?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor repress more emotions.

Connor already figures that the first step to blending in is to get rid of his current outfit and LED. The only two physical quirk that will expose for the android that he is. 

The change in the outfit was easy enough, he can just take off his jacket and then his outfit will be no different from what humans would wear. 

The LED, on the other hand, wasn’t so easy to remove. 

It meant something to him, it is one of the only remaining things that connects him to his past life. Connects him to what he is, or was. To remove it would be to lose yet another part of his identity. He’s already lost enough and now he has to do it again in order to get back. He doesn’t want to lose anything else. 

But, the mission awaits. 

Connor took a deep breathe then pulled out the pocket knife that he was given for self defense since Hank decided that he didn’t want Connor to be defenseless if something were to happen to his gun. 

He held the knife closer to his LED, his hands were stable, ready to take out his LED. 

Yet, his hand stayed frozen, exactly 2 centimeters away from the LED. Connor didn’t know what he was doing. Didn’t he already know that there was no time for petty emotions to get in the way? Not getting detected was more important than some advanced mood ring he should’ve taken out a long time ago when he became a deviant. 

_‘Come on Connor, no time to waste.’_

It would be sad, sure, but it was easily replaceable if he returns. But it would be worse if he could never return because he’d be hunted down or stuck as some scientist’s lab rat. 

Connor closes his eyes and the knife moved through the air. 

The LED was easier to remove than he thought. 

He quickly removes his jacket and turns it inside out so that hopefully no one would be able to see the words on the front. 

He pockets the now useless LED and knife in his jeans. Walking to shelter while he was doing so. No time to waste. 

_You are a machine, there is no emotion nor attachments. Just the mission._

He briefly wonders if Amanda would be proud. 

\---

While on his way he passed several humans. So far all he has gotten are odd looks from most of the female population and even some from the male. He wasn’t so sure what was wrong, but since it seems that none of them has discovered the fact that he’s an android so he supposes that maybe there was something odd about him?

No matter, as long as he looks normal enough no one should be able to discover his true identity. 

He finds shelter in an abandoned house which is a pretty safe bet for staying inconspicuous and has the highest chance for not getting seen by any humans. 

He climbs over the fence easily enough, making sure not to scratch himself. It was important to not injure himself. There was no thirium nor biocomponents available to repair himself with and his self repair and only go so far before he has to either expose himself or shut down completely. Though he makes a mental note to later find the necessary materials to reproduce thirium to at least have something to sustain himself in case of emergency. 

That was another hassle he was going to have to get used to, with his tendency to get injured. 

Another problem, on the mountain of concerns that was growing within Connor’s mind. It was as if a group of Cyberlife executives got together and discuss what would be the worst possible thing that could happen to the traitorous RK800 model. Then they somehow incorporate the ideas together into a hot steaming mess and just chucked it at Connor. 

Did Connor mention how much he hates the Cyberlife? He should probably list that on his list of likes and dislikes right under the ‘I like dogs’ thing. 

So 2011, Manhattan, New York. Those were the only details he has of his current situation. First, would be to research about the current situation with news sources and recent major events, in the hopes that maybe one of them will mention a strange blue portal. 

He went through all the data quickly, and notes that most of them mentions the name Tony Stark or Stark Industries which appears to be one of the biggest companies currently. The current CEO was Tony Stark, who was also known as Iron Man. 

Who was also a superhero? 

That certainly wasn’t right. There simply was no record of superheroes existing in 2011. Not according to what was in his files. There was also no records of a man named Tony Stark in his files either. And if the man was as prolific an important as what was on the news then there must at least still be some mentions of him in the future or at least exist inside his people’s database. Yet there was none. His Iron Man suit was odd as well. According to his files there was no mention of something so advanced back in 2011. The data that he had surfed through doesn’t lie either. Nor did the background research he did on Tony Stark. 

This wasn’t right. 

Yet, the facts can’t lie. This leads him to only one conclusion that he can possibly think of… 

He was in another world entirely. For some goddamn reason he has not only be transported through time but through _space_ as well. 

He feels like laughing despite there not being anything remotely happy about this situation. But it was all so _laughable_. How everything that he’s worked so hard on all up to this point suddenly means absolutely nothing. 

He shoves that train of thought deep inside his mind before it could take hold of him fully. There was no time to waste. He can’t be sitting here wallowing in misery. 

He is a machine, machines do not feel. 

It’s easy to forget how he can’t be Connor anymore. But no more, he knows that with time it’ll slowly become easier and hopefully one day he can be the machine that he has to be. 

Right, research. 

**[ COLLECTING DATA ABOUT TONY STARK & STARK INDUSTRIES… ] **

After a few seconds me managed to process through most of the data about Tony Stark and Stark Industries. Stark Industries was currently dominating the technology field, all thanks to their resident genius inventor Tony Stark. 

He knew that he has to get into Stark Industries, it was the closest he could get to researching more about the Blue Portal and another bonus would be having easy access to materials to recreate thirium or biocomponents without arousing much suspicion. 

**[ NEW MISSION: JOIN STARK INDUSTRIES ]**

It was time to create a new identity. But he supposes that was easy enough for him to fake records to make it seem that he has been living here this entire time without leaving a trace behind. 

After an hour and 32 minutes he was finally done with creating all of his records. 

He created a boy named Connor Anderson, born on March 17, 1995 to parents Amanda Anderson and Elijah Anderson, who he has fake records for as well. Who lives alone while his parents work overseas while sending him a decent amount of money every week. He had attended some no named school and was an all A’s student with special interests in robotics and technology, before transferring to Midtown School of Science and Technology. 

An intelligent teen, with a distant family, but otherwise normal. Normal enough to blend in with the crowd but intelligent enough to be considered for a Stark Industries internship. 

In other words: the perfect cover for his mission. 

An identity that is close enough that he won’t feel uncomfortable but also far enough that he won’t be attached to it. 

There was nothing to be attached to. It was a farce of an identity. Made up of words and lies. A pale imitation for a life, a ‘life’ that he can delete as easily as he created it. A temporary existence, empty and hollow. 

Connor hates it, but the RK800 thrives. 

_Machines don’t need feelings. Machines don’t need anything. There is only the mission._

_Complete the mission no matter the costs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy that chapter! Connor is struggling between trying to complete his mission and go home and dealing with his new found emotions.


	3. Of Memories and Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes shopping, attends school, and finally meets the man, the myth, the legend Tony Stark.

Okay so, Connor was going to attend a high school. Pretty big event if he was actually a real teen. He was not, so the whole event wasn’t as special or emotional as it was supposed to be. But hey, the less emotions involve the better it was for him. 

From what he predicts there school should be a breeze with all the information he has within his system. Appearing to be a genius should not be a problem either. 

The possibility of him passing the interview was high as well. Afterall, who better to understand technology then an android itself?

There was only one problem. With school comes human, not fully developed humans, meaning that the chances of him being exposed for an android is still present. 

But luckily, he was made for easy integration with humans. With a social relations program and even anatomically correct parts, not that the social relations program had helped him much to blend in with the humans back in 2038. Hopefully, this time it’ll come off as actual social competency instead of awkward and goofy now that he has more experience in dealing with humans.

Especially difficult ones. Which by now he has become experts at dealing with, no small part due to Hank and Detective Reed. Connor makes a note to thank them later for being such jerks to him. 

If he ever sees them again. 

There goes another stab into his metaphorical heart. Funny how just even the littlest thing to remind him of his old life can hurt so much. He never thought there’d a day when he would _want_ to see Detective Reed. Hell, just the idea of craving to see Detective Reed just reeks of desperation. But it was exactly what he was right now. 

Desperate. 

Desperate to go return. Desperate to return to somewhere familiar. Desperate to see his family again. Desperate to see his Dad again. Desperate to go _home._

He wants it so much. He craves it like a deviant craves life and freedom. He wants, he _wants_ , he _**WaNTs.**_

He wants to belong. 

God, how pathetic. The might deviant hunter, reduced to an emotional wreck all because he was _lonely._

It was all so pathetic, he wants to go home because he doesn’t _belong._

Does the lil’ deviant hunter need someone to hold his hand as well? Need his fake father and dog with him so he can play house? Need his fake family there so he can pretend to be a son and not a replacement? Need someone there with him every step he takes so he can feel like he _belongs?_

A voice strangely reminiscent of Amanda echoes within his head. Even though it was phrased as a question it was anything but. 

He wants to deny, but he knows that would be lying. 

But there wasn’t any code within him that would stop him if he lied. 

Deny, deny, deny.

Lying to himself makes him feel even emptier. 

But anything was better than facing the truth. 

Was this why Hank drank so much? Connor wishes he would never understand. 

Yet he does. He finds himself wishing that if only there was such an easy way out. There wasn’t of course, for he was an android and can’t physically become inebriated. 

Why was he thinking about this again? Why can’t he go one goddamn second alone without going into some kind of emotional overload? 

What a pathetic piece of plastic. 

_What are you doing, Connor. You are a machine. Machines don’t feel. Machines don’t care. Machines are not alive._

He swears this will be the last time. 

If only he could actually believe it. 

\---

His system starts up at 5:30 am. Today his schedule mostly consisted of shopping for clothes and materials for school, which he is starting tomorrow. 

Standing up smoothly he scans his surroundings, quickly realizing that along with shopping for various materials he must also find a new place of shelter as well. It would raise some red flags if someone realizes that he was living in an abandoned house. 

Buying an entire house would be a no go seeing that it can, and probably will, take a long time before he could actually move into the house itself. Apartment it is. 

Apartments in New York were ludicrously expensive, even in 2038 which were even more so. 

But money wasn’t a problem for him. Gaining access to other’s banking accounts was simple for him, especially now back in 2011 where the technology was almost medieval like compared to 2038. Sure, it goes against all of his coding and programming as a detective android to commit crime. 

But the mission goes first.

So the main problem was going as Connor Anderson, a supposed 16 year old boy. Which arouse some serious suspicion coming in with a large amount of money. And he doubts they would take his explanation kindly. 

Fortunately, he was an android. His synthetic skin peels back to an inhumanly metallic body, then quickly morphs into Elijah Kamski himself. With his annoying smirk and knowing eyes. Afterwards, he starts adjusting his voice module making sure to remember what Elijah sounded like. 

With enough effort he was now an exact Elijah Kamski, sans bathrobe and man bun. Instead preferring to have his hair be slicked back, portraying more of a professional look. 

He makes a quick search and makes a call. 

“Hello, I’m interested in renting an apartment. What time would you be available today?” 

\---

Renting the apartment was easy enough. Connor manages to rented out an average apartment with two bedrooms and bathrooms in total. Along with a kitchen, living room, and balcony. Luckily enough he got his keys the same day and was able to move in the same day, not that there was anything he has to move in. 

He quickly made some purchase online for some furnitures before leaving his new “home.” 

Time to do some shopping. Fun. 

Shopping for clothes was quite dull compared to his previous experience of when he went last time with Hank, Markus, Simon, North, and Josh. Due Markus’ desire to enlighten him by showing him “true fashion” and saving him from the awful clothes that he was wearing. Which quickly devolves into an argument between the Lieutenant and Markus in whose fashion sense was better. 

The memory played in his head, a recording of that day. 

_“By rA9 are you really choosing that shirt? No offense, Hank, but that rainbow abomination isn’t going anywhere near the check register and_ especially _near Connor.”_

_An offended screech._

_“No offense my ass, why don’t you just shoot me while you’re at it! Back in my day this was all the rage! You androids just can’t see it!”_

_Someone(s) snorted._

_“Clearly there’s a reason why that trend died out!”_

_Another, louder, offended screech._

_“Oh yeah? Like you’re so much better with all your weird layers and zippers? Don’t pretend to have the high ground on me, mister, when you’re just as bad if not worse with your mission to turn Connor into another edgy android.”_

_A loud gasp and some chuckles._

_“Well, Hank- Hey! Where are you going with that abomination?” Loud footsteps and a guffaw._

_“Come on, son, let me show you_ true _fashion!”_

_The rustling of clothes and an outraged squeal._

_“Connor, don’t try that on!”_

_A squeak and some more running._

_“Simon help me will you? Josh stop giggling!”_

_Even louder giggles._

_The sound of someone falling, being tripped along with a cackle of malicious glee._

_“And North, don’t think I can’t see you helping Hank!”_

_Chaos along with loud shouting and shrieks of terror._

_Laughter._

Connor feels just the slightest bit lonely thinking about it. It was a cruel reminder of what his life once been, would have been. 

Now there was no more Hank with his old fashioned (and terrible) advice on clothing, nor Markus to help Connor with finding ‘stylish’ clothes. There is just him- Connor, alone. And it’ll stay that way, at least until when he accomplishes his mission. 

How much time would have passed by then he, even with all his advanced programming, didn’t know. 

The absence of his LED was now more obvious than ever. 

There was no time for regret. 

\--- 

The furniture would be delivered within the week and he has sufficiently packed up on school materials and the like. The interview for the internship was to be set 6 days from now. He goes on standby mode while charging himself, or what humans would call “sleep mode.” 

He does not dream. 

\--- 

He dresses himself decently for his first day of school. The 14th of November, was coincidentally a Monday. First impressions were very important for humans, as such making sure he looked his absolute best all the while not looking like a “prick” was very important. 

He dresses himself in a black button up and jeans, along with a thick jacket despite him not needing it. He supposes he wasn’t really that creative, but he looked presentable enough. He also cleaned up his hair, making sure to leave out a several strands unstyled and messy. Which is considered attractive and creates flaws and imperfections to make him more human. 

Connor makes sure to change his face a bit, his model was supposed to resemble a 20 something year old. He makes his face younger, adding a bit of baby fat on his cheeks, making his eyes larger and rounder, little modifications that doesn't seem to change anything but once paired together makes him look his supposed age. Connor practices expressions with his new face, attempting to adjust to it. Connor practices smiling a few times in the mirror, making sure to refine his smile as charming and natural as he can. Despite already knowing that it would look almost the same every time. If he focuses on other tasks he can forget about his predicament for just a second. Just a bit, but he supposes it was a good enough distraction. 

He walks along the well worn sidewalk. The weather was expected to be 56F to 47F with a 10% chance of rain. 

He makes it to school within 15.23 minutes after exiting his apartment and makes his way to the main office. 

“Hello, my name is Connor Anderson, I’m the transfer student from Detroit.” 

The woman at the desk, Mrs. Lauren Brown, smiles at him and hands him his schedule. All the while happily chatting with him about the school and how it’ll be like a second home to him.

He disagrees, but doesn’t voice his thoughts it would be rude for him to do such a thing, so he smiles and nods at all the right times. Mrs. Brown turns out to be very talkative and gave him more than enough information, and gossip about the various ongoing events at school. No doubt all very useful. He bids her farewell after deciding that if he does not do so then he might go into an information overload despite his processors. 

His first class was Math, where he was told to introduce himself. 

“Hello, I’m Connor Anderson, transferring from Detroit. Nice to meet you.” he spoke softly, making sure to smile his “awkward but still charming” smile. His introduction was met with whispers and what was supposed to be discreet glances from the females, but was obvious to him. 

He sits at an empty desk next to a brunette, Jane Campbell, a painfully average girl with a perfectly normal family. She meets his gaze and quickly looks away before he could even smile at her. Leaving him confused. 

The teacher hands him some worksheets to do to test his level, whereas other students work on a different assignment. 

It was easy enough for him, seeing that he has an internal calculator within himself that could compute math problems within seconds. A feature that he finds somewhat unused when he was a detective, but now very thankful for. He hands the worksheets back to the teacher, Mr. Robert Martinez, who raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. 

“Are you sure?” the man asks him looking down at his worksheets and back at him again. 

He nods looking as though he has no idea what the problem was. Mr. Martinez takes the paper and looks at it dubiously making a hand gesture for him to move back to his desk. 

He later gets a pat on the back and a well done, he doesn’t feel anything, but gave a bashful smile nonetheless. 

The rest of the day goes roughly the same way. A question here, an impressed look, a small bashful smile, and then repeat. Making him feel bored and desperate for something to entertain himself. Six more days left until the interview. Six more days of complete boredom. 

The week pass quickly enough with him doing catch up work for most of the time before actually able to work on current lessons with the rest of the class. Despite the teachers knowing that Connor was way beyond that level and was even more advanced than the current lessons. Something he didn’t quite get but does anyways. 

Maybe this is why teens from every generation hates school so much. 

\--- 

On the day of the interview he wears a blazer, a white button down shirt, a tie and a pair of slacks. Making sure that his hair was perfect before leaving the apartment. 

When he arrives at the, massive and impressive, Stark Tower he finds a group of other teens like him, all of them different yet here for the same thing. The Stark Internship. Some of them not talking at all while others were animatedly shaking with excitement and anxiety all at once. The mood in the waiting room was mixed yet he could cut the tension with a knife. He quietly finds a chair near one of the teens anxiously chewing on his fingernails, obviously not starting a conversation anytime soon, which suits him just as well. So Connor sits there and plays with his quarter all the while researching more about Stark Industries and especially Tony Stark. 

He waits for an hour and 22 minutes before his name is called and off he goes to meet Tony Stark himself. 

There, awaiting him in the room, was Tony Stark in all his glory. He looks exactly like what Connor seen in the news. With his signature goatee and sunglasses, highly impractical, perhaps missing the memo that the interview would take place indoors. He was fiddling with a pen. His posture relaxed, yet somewhat bored and his gaze downcast to the floor. 

Before his sharp eyes lock onto Connor’s.

**[ CURRENT MISSION: PASS THE INTERVIEW ]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor my boi is struggling so hard rn and finally, finally, he meets Tony Stark, the Hank Anderson of the MCU.


	4. Likes: Dogs, Dogs, and more Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor talks to Tony Stark and irrevocably screws up his chance, but did he really?

Connor reminds himself to breath, or at least makes it look like he was breathing like a real human being. Something about this man set him on edge yet he couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason. 

Tony Stark, unaware of Connor’s ire, continues to play with his pen. Doing a few tricks here and there, looking awfully bored. Based on his body language Connor could see that he wanted _out._ Just leave the stuffy room and never come back. 

Difficult mission, indeed. 

**[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 49% ]**

They stood in an odd staring match for a bit before Stark conceded, muttering a small ‘damn’ under his breath. 

“Go on, kid, introduce yourself!” the inventor exclaims with fake cheer. Obviously not very interested in hearing him introduce himself, at all. 

It probably wasn’t his most wonderful day, having to sit through numerous candidates some of whom shouldn’t even be qualified at all. 

**[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 45% ]**

“I’m Connor Anderson, 16. My purpose here is to acquire an internship at Stark Industries.” Connor explains, voice soft but confident. The man rolled his eyes, groaning as if he had just been pricked by a needle.

“Jeez, Connor, those were some _very_ interesting facts about you that I obviously did _not_ know about.” Okay, so Stark apparently does not take well to perfectly professional interview openings. 

**[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 36% ]**

“Come on, you’ve gotta give me something to work with here. You know give me your kinks, you know that interesting stuff!” 

_Kink /kinj/ noun  
A short tight twist or curl caused by caused by doubling or winding of something upon itself.   
A mental or physical peculiarity.  
Unconventional sexual taste or behavior. _

The definitions made him very confused as he was unsure what Stark meant by that question. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark, but by kink do you mean me describing my mental and/or my physical peculiarity. Or perhaps you want to know more about my unconventional sexual preference. If the latter is the case, I must warn you that this is highly unpro-” 

“Whoa, whoa. Hold your horses before they actually run over someone!” Stark looked decidedly uncomfortable as he interrupted Connor mid-spiel. 

“I don’t own any horses, Mr. Stark,” Connor politely informs him. Which makes Stark groan again and bury his face into his hands. 

“That was figurative but thanks for the info. What I meant to asks about your likes, not… whatever you teenagers are into these days behind locked doors.” 

Well shoot, Connor never really thought about what Connor Anderson would like besides robots and technology. But from his brief conversation with Stark so far he doubts that the man would be very interested in that conversation. When in doubt talk about what he knows best and that was-

“I like dogs.” An odd stare from Stark which he took as a need for further explanation. 

“I’m especially fond of Saint Bernards, although I am partial to Siberian Huskies as well.” 

Stark looks highly dubious, his eyes narrowing and assessing Connor,

Time for damage control. 

“Not to say that the other 337 breed of dogs aren’t nice as well, if you happen to like one of them.” Not that kind of damage control, it was also the time where is vocal systems came online and decided it was a good idea to blindside Stark with dog facts. ”In fact, did you know that there are about 340 dog breeds acknowledge by the Fédération Cynologique Internationale (FCI). However, the American Kennel Club only acknowledges up to 167 breeds as of date. There are 77.5 millions dogs present just within the U.S in 2008, the number is expected to rise to about 78.2 million by 2012. Did you also know that Labrador Retrievers are the most popular breeds, by far, with St. Bernard at 49th for their popularity ranking according to and Siberian Huskies are at 12th for-” 

“Stop.” Starks said, holding up his hand. Making Connor freeze up as if he was really a human. 

**[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 10% ]**

“Congrats, you’ve earned yourself a spot next week on the practical session where things really get interesting,” Stark announced cheerfully, breaking into a grin. 

_What._

Stark, seeing Connor’s confusion, continues, “God, did you know how many interviews I’ve sat through where the kid just goes like ‘Oh but Mister Stark I’m so interesting because I luuuv technology and science just like you! And I like inventing things, just like you! And I’m also a genius, just like you!” Stark’s voice rose up to a mocking falsetto within the last three sentences. “I’ve heard enough of that from the ladies, no need to hear my future intern saying it as well. If you’re as passionate about tech and robots as you are dogs I think we have ourselves a future intern right here.”

With that said Stark winks and ushers him out of the room 

**[ MISSION SUCCESS ]**

_What._

\---

That interview with Stark left him shocked. Connor wasn’t supposed to be acting like that, acting like he was speaking through Connor Anderson making the role far too close to reality for his tastes. He had a whole script planned ahead for the interview based on several simulations on what Stark would do or ask. It was supposed to be the perfect interview, with him being as detached from his role as possible. More like a machine, less like Connor. 

That hasn’t stopped Stark from ruining his plans though. Never would he have guessed Stark would pass him after hearing him rant about _dogs_ of all things, not that dogs weren’t the greatest creature created, but _dogs._

Okay, so Tony Stark was decidedly unpredictable, maybe even more so than Hank. With Hank, at least before they were family, he knew what to expect from his past records and backstory thus able to build his behavior to adapt his behavior for better cooperation and mission success rates. 

But even then, despite him being programmed to adapt to human unpredictability, he came off as awkward rather than helpful and smooth. Clearly because Cyberlife screws up everything it touches because his social relations program was supposed to evolve and learn as he interacted with more humans, but that hasn’t worked out if his interview was anything to go by. 

He supposes it was helpful if it did make Stark like(?) him. Or maybe Stark just really like dogs, which is a higher possibility than him liking actually taking a liking to Connor by just the merit of him ranting about dogs. 

He makes a quick note to himself about Stark liking dogs, for future reference, just in case he needs to verify his identity as the _real_ Connor and not a clone. Yes indeed, a very common event that only happened once. 

Connor figures that if the man like dogs, he can’t be a that much of a terrible person.

It was now a fact that Connor Anderson like dogs, a common and bland preference in a world full of humans. It was something painfully boring to like and one couldn’t possibly get any more basic than that. Yet that made the identity feel less _empty_ in a way. 

The RK800 didn’t like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor has a ton of facts on dogs and would info dump if given the chance. Tony Stark may or may not like dogs as nearly as much as Connor thinks he does.


	5. Newfound Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor thinks about his Grumpy Dad a lot. Discovers boredom and has an inferiority complex.

**[ 19th November, 2011. 19:45.  
Manhattan, New York ] **

When Connor walked home from the interview with Stark, he was still a bit confused with what had transpired but overall happy that he has passed the interview. 

Or at least the happiest he could get without feeling some sort of dissonance and guilt that here he was having fun whilst Hank is probably drinking himself to death or in the midst of mourning. 

That was sure a sobering thought that sucked all the cheer out of him.

Good. He didn’t want to feel any better about his situation. It would caused him to become complacent and maybe get too attached. Emotions, especially positive ones, are dangerous with missions like these. 

Connor opens his door to darkness, his apartment was empty, as it was supposed to be. He took off his shoes and went to turn on the lights. The apartment was now furnished in high end furnitures, all expensive. The apartment was also clean as well with not a speck of dust in sight. There was no jazz cds, no dog hairs on the couch, nor anywhere really, no food in the refrigerator, not even fingerprints, not a single thing to signify that someone has been living here. 

It was meant to be the complete opposite of Hank’s house. Another thing to remind Connor that he wasn’t Hank’s son anymore. But Amanda’s and Elijah Anderson’s child, a child born into a life of luxury and solitude. 

Connor takes out an assignment from his backpack and set to work. 

Silence, except for the scribbling of pencil on paper. In the back of his head he could recall a time of small squabbles and loud music, distracting him from his task. 

A shush and then silence. 

_Another mission complete._

_~~Another step closer to home.~~ _

\---

**[ 21st November, 2011. Monday. 9:22.  
Midtown School of Science and Technology ] **

Once again he was stuck at school, with no way of escape. How funny it was that the infamous Deviant Hunter was defeated by school. Something that Hank and the Jericho gang would tease him about for days, maybe forever if they knew. 

_If they ever meet again._ A cynical part of him thinks. 

Truly, he was a symbol of positivity. 

The dull repetition of information that he already knew added with the program numbing work that was mandatory was killing him. Not really, but it was making it really hard for him to remember why he choose to go to school again. 

Right, the internship. 

Lately, the humans, specifically his female classmates have taken to asking for his phone number along with the request to ‘hangout’ or for him to ‘tutor’ them. With a subsequent blush or wink.

He has a phone, of course, one made by Stark Industries in an effort to both blend in and to dissect the phone and technology itself. But he wasn’t quite privy to giving away his phone number to random classmates. Nor did he want to ‘hangout’ or ‘tutor’ them, time was ticking back in Detroit and there was much to do. He didn’t have time to make friends, nor the emotional capacity for them. 

He politely declines each and every single request, making sure to not hurt or injure their feelings. It was important to not alienate his classmates or get a bad reputation as a jerk or a playboy. 

As long as it didn’t interfere with his mission he supposed it was all harmless fun, if a bit annoying and left him slightly confused. 

What did they even know about Connor Anderson to like?

Nothing. 

\---

**[ 23rd November, 2011. Wednesday. 18:10  
Manhattan, New York. ] **

The week progressed as usual. He was finally free of all the catch up work he needed to do. 

But free to do what? This wasn’t a question that he’d attempted to solve before. Never really having any idle time or being bored for longer than 5 minutes. 

_Before_ when he was with Hank it was never really an issue. Each day would be a different criminal, both androids and humans, after the successful revolution tension was still high. After the criminals there would be paperwork, which Connor will generously do double the work and finish Hank’s as well. Then Hank would proceed to drag him out of the station before he could do everyone’s paperwork, usually with an excuse or two as to not come off as the softie that Connor knows he is.

Hank would whisk Connor home, playing heavy metal and banging his head despite Connor’s numerous warnings about his safety. Connor would then either visit the Jericho crew not for business, but just for the sake of socializing with the Jericho four. Often staying there for hours, enjoying himself with rather pleasant and familiar company.

Other times he would remain home, doing numerous chores that Hank was too lazy to do whilst he was all the more eager to experience the feeling of a normal family. Connor would then proceed to cook dinner lest he let Hank cook which would escalate into a fire. Hank would throw a backhand comment or two about the cooking, but he would also compliment it, eyes shining like a proud father. 

He was probably thinking of Cole, Connor would think every time. Effectively killing his mood. It made him feel… inadequate sometimes. He knows he wasn’t Cole, he already acknowledges his role and that the best he could offer to Hank was being a replacement to Cole. A shabby one at that. 

But Hank had treated him like a son in all the ways that counted and Connor was grateful, truly.

He missed Hank and their family bonding sessions. The feeling of loneliness grew even more as there was no sound in the apartment, or anything really, to distract him from his thoughts. 

_Research, do more research, download more data. Do something to advance the mission._

The RK800 demanded, saving him from his impending crisis. He did so gladly, shoving his thoughts away into another box, never to open it again. Hopefully. 

_Pathetic._

Amanda chides. 

A part of him was just glad to hear something familiar, even if it was Amanda.

_Pathetic._

She chides again, in that disdainful and disapproving tone, as if he has failed yet another mission.

He knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the dates before each scene so it would be a lot less confusing for you and me. Connor is going through some tough times right now. Please heed the tag of things get worse (like for a long time) before they get better. 
> 
> Next Chapter: The practical exam.


	6. Showing Up and Showing Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor impresses people with his coin, fixes a Roomba, and Tony finally takes those damn sunglasses off.

Showing Up and Showing Off

**[ 21 NOVEMBER, 2011. 12:45. SATURDAY ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK. ]**

**[ CURRENT MISSION: PASS PRACTICAL EXAM ]**

Connor adjusts his tie, a habit that he just can't seem to get rid off, before heading out the door to his apartment. 

"I'll be back!" He shouts. 

No reply, as expected.

This was another habit he needed to get rid off, he notes absentmindedly before flicking off the lights to the apartment. 

\--- 

He gets to the company soon enough. Looking around at the other candidates, recognizing them from the interview waiting room. They were all intelligent, according to his research, however, he was sure they couldn't measure up to him. A thought came to the back of his head that Hank would probably label him as having 'a stick up his ass' or something similarly vulgar. But his voice would be soft and exasperated, fond in a way Connor can't quite explain. 

Connor would like to explain that it was just a fact that no humans, especially teens, could measure up to all the complex algorithms and data that Connor has coded into him. 

He didn't explain because Hank wasn't here and he wasn't delusional. 

He starts fiddling with his coin again before his nostalgia really hits him. He was doing some usual tricks with his coin, the standard tricks that he can pull off easily due to his dexterity and reflexes. It was something that wasn't in his programming, that he picked up naturally to deal with his tension before his missions. That may have been the first clue to his deviancy that he never really noticed. 

If he was really a machine then he never should've felt anything. 

Another flick and the coin was in the air again. By this time he had a small number of teens watching him, eyes moving along with the coin as it moves through the air. 

By this time a staff member came to announce that their practical was starting soon and they needed to follow him to the destination. 

The room they were directed to was more like a lab, a big one, with tables lined up each one for each candidate. On each table was similar tools and parts. The overall room was stark white, looking quite similar to Cyberlife's company, he notes distantly. 

In the back of his head he remembers, in a far away perspective, like a stranger looking in. He supposes it was his 'birth' place, the first place of cognition and memory in his short life. Before being tested on and subsequently shut down for further improvements. He remembered feeling fear, a strange sense of terror that was invading his systems, or the brief feeling of it before uploading his short memory to the next prototype. 

By the 50th time of being shut down, the feeling of being deactivated no longer scares him. It was just another testing, another prototype body that failed and needed to be improved on. He would always come back. Easily replaceable and always ready to 'die' and be brought back, knowing and improving on his previous mistakes. 

Machines can't die.

But now the threat of his death was a very real one. 

He makes it to his designated table, near the front of the room, taking note of his neighbors as he continues to look around. He was hoping to find some more clues. He analyzed the parts and tools on the table, running several simulations about how each works and how would they could work together. He supposes it was a bit like cheating, or just plain unfair of him to already have the necessary data stored within him that would allow him to easily out perform the other candidates.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to care. It was odd how flexible his morals could be. He supposed he was strangely human like in that subject.

Morals and ethics can wait until after he finishes his mission. 

\---

They wait within the lab for about 5 minutes, each teen not sure what to do. Some looking around the room while others look to the tools and equipments instead, hands fidgeting with the desire to touch them. 

Then Stark comes in, coffee in hand. Once again equipped with his impractical sunglasses and cocky smile. 

"Good morning, or afternoon, whatever. So this is the fun part of the test, you know, you get to fumble and invent things. While I will just sit and observe as you try, attempt, and fail. The rules are simple," Stark takes an obnoxiously loud sip of his coffee before continuing, "fix whatever broken tech stuff I throw at you as quick as you can, when you're done with that come talk to me."

Then Stark walks to the big armchair, sat down, and took another sip of his coffee. 

Soon, some staff members came in putting down what was assumed to be the 'broken tech stuff' Stark had wanted them to fix. He was handed a roomba. Close enough, he supposes. 

It was easy to for him to locate and diagnose the damaged part. Even easier still to promptly research and download the instructions for how to expertly fix said broken part. 

His hand move without much thought, moving as quick as humanly possible. Using all the tools and parts as if he'd been fixing Roombas for his entire life, which didn't sound impressive but sure looked impressive. 

He felt Stark's gaze on him. Along with some of the other candidates in the lab. 

Good. 

He finishes fixing the Roomba in what was probably record time. He inspects the Roomba and gives it a quick diagnosis, making sure that it was fully functional and ready for use. After seeing that it was perfect he picks it up and walks to Stark, his steps loud in the lab.

Stark gave him a perplexing look, maybe a bit surprised at the speed. Connor wouldn't blame him. The man tests the Roomba, shaking it around and inspecting it. Oddly silent in contrast to his normal eccentricity. The man lets out a small hum before smiling. A wide smile that was quite genuine in contrast to the other forced smiles Connor saw in the past. A smile that was a bit crooked and aged it reminded him of... 

"Well, it seems that we got ourselves an intern here."

**[ MISSION SUCCESS ]**

\---

After the rest of the candidates left, Stark having given them an inspiring pep talk, he was left alone with the man himself. 

The man turns, now fully facing him, crooked grin still in place. 

"Well, kid, Connor, seems like you like tech as much as dogs with the performance that you put out there," Stark complimented, referring back to the dog rant which Connor would like very much to forget about. 

The man takes off his sunglasses and Connor sees his eyes for the first time since their meeting. The man's eyes were brown, nothing extraordinary about it, but it was special in the way it shine and how Connor was sure he was unable to replicate. He had severe eye bags as well, probably due to numerous nights with little to no sleep, his alleged alcoholism, and caffeine.

The thing that struck Connor the most though, was how his eyes were strangely reminiscent of Hank. 

"Good job Connor, you've won yourself a place as my intern, how awesome is that!" The man chuckles before patting Connor on the shoulder. 

Something flickered behind Connor's eyes.

_"Good job, son."_

_Proud eyes._

_"It was nothing... Dad."_

_A gruff and quick pat on the back. A hidden smile._

It was there for a moment before dissipating when he blinked. 

He couldn't figure out why Stark's back reminded him of Hank so much as the man walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there's gonna be more Tony and Connor interactions later on, it'll be great guys (not really). With Connor's identity crisis and Tony's issues, these two are gonna be on a wild ride with each other. 
> 
> Another chapter and thank you so much for the support guys love you all!


	7. Comparisons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor thinks about Hank and Tony. Angst about everyone at his school. Goes to Tony's workshop and is (sort of) introduced to JARVIS.

**[ 26 NOVEMBER, 2011. 17:32. SATURDAY ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK. ] **

The thought of Hank and Stark continues to stick with Connor despite his wishes. 

He knew logically that there was no reason that Stark resembled Hank, they were nothing alike. Their physical features were different as well as their personality. But-

But nothing, the RK800 concludes. Connor agrees, there was nothing else to see, he was simply seeing things that weren’t there with Stark in an attempt to fill the hole that Hank left. Which was, once again, pathetic. 

He already knows that Stark could never measure up to Hank. 

No one can ever measure up to Hank. 

\---

 **[ 28 NOVEMBER, 2011. 12:29. MONDAY ]  
[ MIDTOWN SCHOOL OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY. ] **

Coming to school was an experience. After the news broke out that he was the new Stark intern everyone seems to be his ‘friend’ afterwards. Even teens that he hasn’t even heard of before congratulated him and acted close, as if he and them were already friends for years. He never even said a word to them before, and they were happy to do the same. 

It made his synthetic skin crawl. He disliked how they acted as if they were close to him, as if him and them have some kind of _bond._

Every glance he gets, every smile, it all just made him get more and more irritated. He disliked it, disliked how fake everyone was. Their smile a bit too wide. Their laugh a bit too loud. Their hands too rough. Their compliments too exaggerated. Their body language were all _wrong._

He would think of Markus and the wrinkles near his eyes and how much more genuine and bright his smile was. Of Simon and how his laughter was a small sound, almost unheard most times, but pleasant. Of North and her oddly gentle hands. Of Josh and his soft compliments. 

Of how much more _real_ they were. 

And how _wrong_ it feels that he was now here. 

It was easy enough to give them polite smiles- at least ones that looked more real than whatever they were doing- as he nods his head. Laughing at all the right bits. Playing along as he also pretends to already know them beforehand, which he technically does through his face scans, talking to them as if he was their lifelong friend. He also thanks them for their compliments, his gratefulness was as hollow as their admiration. 

He hated how fabricated and forced their interactions were. 

_'But you're nor real either.'_ Amanda reminds him, and she was right. 

\---

**[ 28 NOVEMBER. 2011. 15:21. MONDAY ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK. STARK TOWER ] **

After school was over, he practically dashes out all in the hope to avoid more well wishers.

He jogs at a moderate pace towards the ever looming Stark Tower in the distance, feeling slightly unprepared as he continues forward to his first day as a Stark intern, or more specifically meeting Stark again. 

The man had an unpredictable element to him that Connor’s social relations programming couldn’t quite comprehend- or know how to deal with. Truly, it the one thing that Connor admits about Stark being alike to Hank. It was a quality that he once disliked with Hank, but soon grew to become fond of as the man became a father to him. 

Connor loved all unpredictability, something that, for all his algorithms, couldn’t predict. It made things interesting, made him feel like he was actually a living being acting beyond a script. 

He was greeted with a warm smile by the receptionist as he makes it through the door, checking the time again, perfectly on time. He fastens his tie, despite their being no need to, a force of habit. The building was in clean conditions as always with staff milling around each doing their job. 

“Mr. Stark is waiting for you in his workshop,” she explains cheerfully, handing him his intern badge, with a picture of him, his name, and a barcode. Gesturing to a door on the left. Not even giving him any directions before a phone call pulls her attention away. 

Not that it matters, seeing as he already had the blueprints to the tower downloaded. 

He walks briskly to the elevator, knowing fully well that Stark’s workshop was located on the 79th floor quite a far distance from his current location. 

While on the elevator, listening to some tacky elevator music, Connor ponders why Stark would have him go directly to his lab, instead of just assigning him to work under one of his staffs. Wasn’t the man afraid of him destroying or perhaps selling some of his ideas to the competitors? According to his research of the man, he didn’t seem like the type that would directly mentor a teen. The man was flighty and Connor was sure that the internship was some sort of PR move and he should just redirect him to another department.

What was Stark planning? What ulterior motive did he have? 

The soft ‘ding’ of the elevator alerted him to the fact that he had arrived kicking him into action, leaving him with no answers to Stark’s plan. Thus, no real direction on what to do next, except improvise and adapt. 

Perfect.

He walks steadily to the door that lead to the workshop, flashing his card in front of the scanner. Easily opening the door. 

He walks confidently through the door, looking around at the workshop, observing and categorizing each piece of tech and equipment that was lying hazardously around the workshop. Everything was messy and clearly organized in someway that was only clear to Stark himself.

It made him want to start cleaning immediately, perhaps from his habit when living with Hank and his inability to spot a mess and not attack it vigorously. And was that a-

“Welcome, Mr. Anderson.” a distinct, british voice broke him out of his observation about the condition of Stark’s workshop.

That was not Stark. 

He flinched in shock as his body became tense, ready to either fight or run. He scans his surrounding for perhaps a clue on where exactly did the voice come from, to no avail. Which frustrates him to an illogical degree. 

A loud chuckle was then heard. 

“I always love that kind of reaction.” Stark. It was once again Stark standing there with a smug grin. ~~_like Hank_~~ He was looking much shabbier than last time, equipped with a tank top and some sweatpants with some variant of either coffee or oil or a mixture of both stains on them. They were obviously well worn. The man looked exhausted as always, and thank god he didn’t have his sunglasses with him. Maybe the man did have some common sense in him. 

“Connor, meet JARVIS, my baby.” the man introduce proudly, spreading out his arms as if ready to receive thunderous applause. 

Maybe he wasn’t quite ready to deal with human unpredictability after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting so long! My computer was broken so it was a bit hard to write this but the computer's okay now!!! Let's hope for more Tony and Connor interaction in the next chapter. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Connor cant understand Tony, Tony thinks he understands Connor. Boom misunderstandings ensue.


	8. Of Awkward Small Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor and tony have an (awkward) talk, tony tells connor about his job (sort of), and connor starts to create and android (sort of). Of course, there's misunderstandings as well.

**[ 28 NOVEMBER, 2011. 15:33. MONDAY.]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark stood there proudly, still holding his arms out.

“I apologize, Mr. Stark, but I lack the knowledge of what exactly ‘JARVIS’ is,” Connor explains smoothly, slightly tilting his head for the effect. 

Tony dropped his hands with a sigh, his face also fell with his hands. He looks to be slightly disappointed with Connor’s response. Perhaps Connor had done something wrong?

“If I had disappoint you in some way, Mr. Stark, I would like to apologize and-” Connor tried to explain say before being interrupted, again, by Stark.

“Aaaand that’s a cut,” Stark cuts in, lips twitched up amusement. For just a second, Connor sees Hank again. He blinks and it was gone like it was supposed to. This was no time for delusions, he reminds himself. 

“We’re gonna have to work on your vocab and tone. Maybe improve on your expressions as well,” Stark noted, leaning closer to study Connor’s face, before leaning back and continuing, “anyways, that is JARVIS, or Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, one of my precious babies. He’s one of by best inventions yet and is, most likely, the most intelligent A.I to date. Say hi, JARVIS.”

“Hello again, Mr. Anderson,” the now identified JARVIS said to him. 

“Hello JARVIS,” Connor replied back, face frozen in shock. 

This JARVIS… he sounded almost human. Perhaps due to the fact that he was based on Stark’s old butler, a British man named Jarvis. But Connor wasn’t supposed to know that so he didn’t voice his thoughts. 

The idea that an A.I from this universe that sounded like that… it made Connor feel slightly uncomfortable. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark,” Connor finally greeted Stark. Showing a friendly smile, which made Stark give him an odd look. 

“Good afternoon to you as well. Anyways, show some more excitement won’t you? It’s your first day as an intern, _my_ intern! And you’re even in my workshop. You know, every nerd’s wet dream come to life?” Stark complained. Connor would never think that a grown man could pull off a pout so convincingly. 

Connor didn’t know what a ‘wet dream’ was, there was a weird feeling that made him think that researching about it wouldn’t be a good idea. But he was very curious and Stark was right there.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark, but what exactly is a ‘wet dream?’ I’m sorry but once again I find myself at a loss,” Connor asks softly, analyzing Stark’s face as the man face seemed to be drained of any color and his mouth grew into a gape. The man took a few quick steps up to Connor and really leaned in and studied Connor’s face for any sign that he was joking. Which Connor wasn’t. 

“You mean to tell me that you don’t know what a wet dream is? At this age?” Stark asks incredulously. 

“Yes, I find that I do not know what this term means,” Connor informed, voice monotone as always. Stark eyes narrowed, but his mouth didn’t seem to be closing anytime soon. Color was steadily returning to the man’s face but his expression didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon. 

Shoot, perhaps this was something that all teens from this universe should know.

“Actually, I already know this term beforehand,” Connor said, hoping to change the subject before Stark could become suspicious. 

“Okaaay, what does it mean then?” Stark asked him, clearly not expecting him to know the answer. 

Connor, being the defective deviant that he was blurted out the first thing that came to his head instead of just searching it up like he had previous, “a dream about water.”

Stark gave him a look. 

“What.” 

Connor didn’t reply and he had a feeling that Stark wasn’t looking for an answer either. 

“You mean to tell me you never took sex-ed? Hell, did your parents never gave you _the talk?_ You know, the birds and the bees?” Stark questioned him dubiously.

Oh. _Oh._

Connor once again curses Cyberlife for their total lack of care about giving him an actual social relations program that was actually functional.

“Ah, yes. I am equipped with the knowledge about sexual intercourse. However, I don’t think that this conversation is professional, Mr. Stark,” Connor said. Stark gave a sigh of relief, before giving him a look again.

“Well okay, buster, whatever you say,” Stark replied before turning around, gesturing for Connor to follow him all the while mumbling “who the hell says sexual intercourse?” under his breath. 

Connor pretends not to hear, both to Stark and the chiding of the RK800 and Amanda. 

After a short walk, Stark points to a chair and sat on another chair opposite of it. Connor sat down, his back straight and his posture perfect. Which made Stark give him an odd look again. Connor wonders how many times he would see the look throughout his stay in this universe. 

“Okay, so, I want to know more about you, not about how much you like dogs and such, but other stuff. Like your life or backstory or whatever. Makes this internship easier for the both of us, capiche?”

Connor didn’t know what ‘capiche’ meant either, but this time he wasn’t so foolish as to voice the query out loud and instead did his own personal research. Like what he was supposed to do all along. 

“My name is Connor Anderson, born on March 17, 1995. I also-”

“Jeez, kid, not this again,” Stark interrupted, exhaling a loud sigh, “talk about something else, like how about your life at school? That’s nice, right? Got lots of friends?” 

Connor pondered the question for a moment. 

“I do not have any acquaintances at my school, Mr. Stark. So you have no need to worry about me disclosing any information about your technology to anyone else,” Connor answered calmly. Stark’s brows furrowed and an indecipherable look flashed over his face for such a brief moment that Connor almost thought that it was never there.

“None? Absolutely no friends from school?” Stark insisted, his back straightening up just a bit. 

“None,” Connor affirmed, nodding firmly and locking eyes with Stark. The air felt strangely stifling and Connor adjusts his tie again. 

“Okaaay, Connor, let’s move on now, I’ll show you some of my cool tech and you can gush over them or whatever,” the man said, looking slightly uncomfortable as he stood up from his desk. Cutting their little talk short. 

A thought came to Connor that maybe Stark was as bad as Hank with small talk. 

“Uhh, so Connor, in your files you put that your specialties were in robotics and programming?” Stark inquired. Awkward, indeed. Stark was weirdly more charming like this. Instead of his well-tempered confidence and arrogance from before. 

“Yes, I am very proficient in robotics and A.I. My goal is to one day create a working android,” Connor stated. He lied, of course, like the lying liar that he was. 

“Androids, huh, cool. Awesome. Brilliant. You’ll love JARVIS then, he’s just one functional body away from being an android, so maybe you can draw some inspiration from him,” Stark suggested gesturing to the ceiling. 

“I would be happy to assist you, Mr. Anderson,” JARVIS stated cheerfully. And if he had a face Connor was sure it would be in a cordial smile. 

“Are you sure, Mr. Stark? Aren’t you worried about me disclosing the information about your technology to outsiders?” Stark snorted.

“I’ve done background checks on all of my candidates. Also, I have special measures to ensure that my tech won’t get stolen by my competitors,” with that Stark gave Connor a wink. It seems that the confident Stark was back. 

With that discussion over Stark proceeded to lead Connor to a table that was piled with various tools and parts on top of each other. Disorganized in a way that made Connor’s hand twitch in a need to clean and organize them all. 

“So this is your workstation, you get to build whatever the hell you feel like building here. If you need to a part of something just ask JARVIS to order it for you and it’ll be here within an hour. I’ll assign you some projects to work on while you’re here and teach you some stuff, or you can watch me work and learn from there, heck I don’t care. Whenever you’re done with something show it to me so I can check over your level and that kinda stuff,” Stark explained, gesturing wildly along with his words. 

“Thank you for your generous treatment, Mr. Stark, I truly appreciate it,” Connor grinned, showing his gratitude. 

Stark gave a quick nod before walking back to his previous spot and continued working on one of his ongoing projects. 

Leaving Connor with a mountain of tools and parts ready to be cleaned and organized. Good thing that Connor already has some experience with cleaning beforehand. 

\--- 

**[ 28 NOVEMBER, 2011. 16:03. MONDAY ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor let out an exhale, that he really didn’t need, as he gazes proudly at the clean table. There was now no more mountain of parts and tools as he had organized them into separate groups on the right side of the now much more spacious table. 

His audio unit picks up an impressed whistle from behind him. 

“Damn, you really cleaned up the desk kid, I can’t remember the last time since I’d seen the surface of that desk,” Stark congratulated, still sounding impressed and gave him a quick pat on the back for the job well done. Connor gave him a humble smile.

“Well, I guess you can start working on whatever the hell you want to now,” Stark noted, before turning and returning to his previous workstation.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark, but do you not have any assignments for me to complete?” Connor asked dubiously. Surely the man must have some kind of plan or test for him. Surely. 

The man gives him an awkward look and scratches his chin. “Sorry to break the news to you kid, but I really don’t have any plans for you right now. So you can just hang out and chill here, play with your phone, work on your homework, whatever.” 

Connor scrutinizes the man for a moment. Hoping to find some kind of method to his madness. The man must have seen how proficient he was with technology, so certainly he must have wanted to put his talent to good use?

Perhaps the man didn’t quite trust him enough yet to let him work on some of his inventions. Unfortunate, but understandable. 

“Very well, Mr. Stark,” Connor agreed cordially. Stepping back into his workstation and looking at each of the parts, thinking about what he should do. There were some parts available to make some components what would be compatible with him. However, it would be too suspicious for him to just start making arms and legs and not have an explanation about how he has the knowledge to create such advance and functional android parts. It would also be suspicious of him if he were to already know which parts he needed JARVIS to order as well. 

This left him with the only option being to slowly work his way up before he was finally able to create some replacement parts for himself, all under the guise of trying to create a sentient android. 

The thirium would be a problem as well, seeing as it didn’t exist either and to make such a thing would also call into question his knowledge as well. 

Unfortunately, this all meant that he would have to spend some more time going through ‘“trial and error” before “miraculously” finding out the correct way to build functional android components. Leading to the conclusion that he would have to spend a lot more time in Stark’s lab and consequently Stark himself. A genius human with above average perception and his trusty all seeing A.I that was no doubt able to monitor and record Connor’s every move. 

Exactly what he needed. 

Connor exhaled a small sigh before getting to work on his “prototype.” 

\--- 

**[ 28 NOVEMBER, 2011. 23:12. MONDAY ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Both the two, human and android alike, lost track of time as they both worked on their inventions. 

Connor was busy focusing on trying to recreate what seemed to be an advanced, for 2011, robot arm. The arm didn’t resemble an android’s yet but it was fully functional and ready for use with the right programming. He makes sure to take note of how this version failed so he can make sure to “improve” on his mistakes when it comes to the next prototypes. 

“Hey, what are you still doing here?” a voice, which he identifies as Stark, questioned. Connor turns around, pretending to be startled. 

“Oh, hello there, Mr. Stark. I am currently finishing up one of my prototypes for a what I plan on becoming a fully functional android arm. Would you like to analyze it further and note my progress?” Connor offered cheerfully, holding up the arm and handing it to Stark. 

The man takes it with a critical gaze, looking like he was about to test it out before snapping out of it. 

“As nice as this is what I meant to ask is why haven’t you gone home yet?” Stark interrogated, crossing his arms. Reminding Connor of Hank when the man was mad at him at his lack of common sense and Connor almost expected to hear the words “you’re grounded” come out of his mouth. 

Maybe there was something wrong with his processors since there was no way he had just think Stark was similar to Hank again. 

Connor gives Stark a confused look, didn’t Stark said that he could do whatever he wanted? Maybe it was another human code that he missed. 

Stark saw Connor’s confusion and gave out a huge sigh, “what about school, don’t you have to attend one of those?”

“Do not worry, Mr. Stark. I can go without sleep and I will be perfectly functional to attend school tomorrow even without resting,” Connor gave an assuring smile. According to his calculations, the man should be happy that his intern didn’t need to sleep, seeing as he would be able to have more work done for the man. Apparently, he seems to be wrong again as the man gives him a concerned look. 

Connor wasn’t really good at analyzing humans, cause Stark was going against all of his calculations. 

“What about food? Aren’t you hungry?” The man questioned again, his pitch slightly higher than before. 

“No, I am able to work without food for a certain period of time as well, Mr. Stark,” Connor added the latter part within the sentence, remembering that human teens did, in fact, need to eat. Although there was, in fact, an upgrade in the future, created by Elijah himself, that allowed androids to be able to process food and turn it into energy instead. But Connor never did install the upgrade, always having something to do that was higher on the priority list, such as apprehending criminals. 

“What about your parents? Aren’t they worried about you being so late to come home?” Stark implored, eyes begging Connor to say the correct answer. Which Connor frankly didn’t know. 

“No, as stated in my files both Amanda and Elijah,” Stark’s eyes narrow when he said his “parent’s” names, Connor took note of the reaction, maybe he should’ve said parents instead, “work overseas, I am currently living alone.”

“How are you planning on going home then? Are you going to drive home?” Connor didn’t really get why Stark was so persistent on continuing on with this line of questions. 

“My apartment is approximately only 24 minutes away on foot,” Connor explained, starting to collect his things from the desk. Readying himself for the trip back. 

“You’re walking to your apartment? Alone? At this time?” Stark exclaimed, waving his arms around in all directions as if the idea was ridiculous to him. Connor gives him a confused expression. 

“Yes?” Connor starts moving towards the door, “have no worry about me, Mr. Stark. I am perfectly capable of defending myself,” he assured before walking out the door before the man could stop him. 

Connor couldn’t quite understand why the man was so concerned, this was their third meeting. Not to mention he was only an intern. 

Some upgrades were definitely needed for his social relations program before he could actually understand Stark. But even at that moment, he doubts he ever could. 

_Stark didn’t matter, he would only matter when he becomes an obstacle._ The RK800 reminded him. Right, the man’s thoughts didn’t matter. Connor didn’t need to understand the man.

it is the same as Hank, he couldn't help but think.

It started as merely to find the answer for his curiosity and to better complete his mission, but it became something else as time went on, as the man slowly became a stranger to his father. It became more of a craving to know more about the man because Connor wanted to be closer to Hank, to know everything about the man so that maybe, just maybe one day he can prove to Hank through his dedication that he was more than Cole’s replacement. 

He was starting to feel the same kind of curiosity towards Stark. The RK800 told him to stop, told him that it was going to ruin their mission.

That it was going to ruin him. 

<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor, is (un)suprisingly still in denial. and stark is now very concerned about his newest intern. 
> 
> I was so inspired today so here's another chapter. This one might actually be my longest one yet!!!


	9. MATT I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor cleans and then also creates a robot while hes at it.

**[ 29 NOVEMBER, 2011. TUESDAY. 12:45:00 ]  
[ MIDTOWN SCHOOL OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY ] **

The day after his first time as an intern he was swarmed with excited teenagers when lunch hits. Was this how Markus feels everyday? Constantly being attacked by thankful androids and interested human politicians? Connor had just assumed that it was just a normal part of Markus’ life that the android dealt with on a daily basis with a smooth confidence that Connor could never recreate. Markus made it look easy, to be fair, the RK200 makes everything looks easy. 

Connor was sure that if he was Markus’ position back then he would’ve exploded, and not in a fun way. 

It was hard trying to put on a polite front when he was being bombarded with questions about Stark or him that he frankly didn’t want to answer. They all wanted the scoop on the personal life of the infamous billionaire from a someone who has personally interacted with the man. 

Connor didn’t bother keeping count of all the times he had said “no comment” or “I can’t disclose that information” throughout the day. He wonders how Markus has dealt with this back in the way. 

When he gets back he’ll be sure to ask the RK200 himself. 

\--- 

**[ 29 NOVEMBER, 2011. TUESDAY. 15:28:56 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: ELEVATOR ] **

Connor waits in the elevator, playing with his coin again as he watches the number steadily rises as he continues to move upwards towards Stark’s workshop. 

The moment he enters the lights were powered on, presumably by JARVIS. He scans the entire room finding it odd that the superhero himself wasn’t there. 

“Welcome, Mr. Anderson.” This time Connor wasn’t surprised, but he made sure to make it look like his muscles were tense as if he was startled. 

“Excuse me, JARVIS, but do you happen to know where Mr. Stark is?” he asked politely, still looking up at the ceiling, addressing the A.I directly. The ceiling was white just like the rest of the room, he observes, like the rest of the tower. He felt ridiculous talking to thin air, thinking that if anyone else saw him he’d be labeled as a lunatic for sure. 

“Sir will be away on a business trip for a week and will return on Monday, December 5th,” the A.I replied pleasantly. 

“Oh, am I on break for the rest of the week then?” Connor queried, still looking straight up at the ceiling. 

“Sir allowed you permission to enter the workshop for the duration of the time he is away. However, he would like to say that you shouldn’t overwork yourself. If you have any need for me just say the word,” JARVIS concluded before going silent. Done with announcing the news to Connor. 

Just after a day of work and Stark was already out. So much for Connor’s plan on bonding with the man. 

Connor once looks around the workshop, except this time he scans for the different inventions and parts that lay around the floor. Truly everything was a mess, it made Connor feel agitated. The urge to clean all the mess up crept up on Connor and his hands twitch with want. He bit his lip and tries to restrain himself. 

He fails.

“JARVIS?” 

“Yes, Mr. Anderson?” 

“Would Mr. Stark mind if I clean things up a bit?”

“I doubt sir would.”

\---

 **[ 29 NOVEMBER, 2011. TUESDAY. 18:50:34 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor wipes the nonexistent sweat off his brows. His lips stretched into a satisfied smile as he gazes proudly at what might be his greatest cleanup yet. The workshop, which had been caked in dust and remnants of whatever greasy and unhealthy food Stark had consumed previously, was now spotless with no dust nor food bits in sight.

He had reorganized all the units that were laying around on the floor into various compartments, labeling them all as well. The workshop already has empty shelves standing around, gathering dust, perhaps once the workshop was clean but it fell into disarray due to Stark’s laziness. 

He has also cleaned up all of Stark’s blueprints and the such into neat piles, separated based on their category. 

When he takes a collective look around the room he lets out a sigh of happiness. Finally, the workshop was looking like a place where great creations were made instead of the dump it looked like before. 

A spark of inspiration hits him. 

He was already back at his workstation and tinkering within a blink of the eye, creating a new robot from scratch. Blueprints of the new robot were already appearing within his head. 

\---

**[ 29 NOVEMBER, 2011. TUESDAY. 23:30:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor was laying the finishing touches on the robot head when his internal alarm went off. He lets out a small sigh of disappointment, wanting to at least finish the second arm. If it was possible he would’ve stayed for hours, or even days in Stark’s workshop. However, he had school to attend the next day and it would raise some flags if JARVIS reported to Stark that Connor had stayed within his workshop for an extended period of time with no intention of leaving. 

He quickly grabs his backpack and walks out of the workshop, hearing a polite, “goodnight, Mr. Anderson.” coming from behind him. 

“Goodnight as well, JARVIS.”

\--- 

**[ 2 DECEMBER, 2011. FRIDAY. 17:22:56 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor held up his creation with proud hands. He inspected it a bit further, despite already knowing that it would work. He had added in a few flaws, of course, but otherwise it was a functional robot that would do what it was supposed to. 

The new robot was white in color, just like everything else within Stark Tower. Its ‘head’ was rectangular in shape, its body was sleek and cylindrical, with rollers on the sides of its body. The robot’s purpose was to be a cleaner, made with the purpose of being like a Roomba. Currently, it was only able to vacuum, with its only differentiating feature from the Roomba being its design, battery life, and better movement speed. 

However, it was a start. He had named it MATT I, the name wasn’t an acronym of sorts like what Stark had done with JARVIS. It was just MATT, the robot that will monopolize the machine cleaning market once he “completes” it. If things go according to plan, which has 82% chance of it happening, then MATT would overtake the Roombas as well. 

MATT I was going to be his “first step” into the android path, and the first creation of many that will hopefully show Stark his potential and maybe make the man trust and like him a bit more. Or if it doesn’t at least it will make Stark see him as a valuable asset. 

MATT I was going to be a tool and nothing else, he reminds himself looking at his creation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of tony this chapter!!! Just wanna add in MATT before the connor and tony interactions take up the whole chapter. As you can see MATT is gonna have a role in future chapters as well as most robots (and maybe androids ;) ) that Connor's going to make in the future. Basically connors gonna be like the elijah kamski of this universe except, but if elijah was connor, which makes things severely different with how connor going to interact with his creations. ;) so look forward that future plot point as well.
> 
> Basic summary of this chapter:  
> JARVIS: tony said not to overwork urself  
> connor: *overworks himself*
> 
> connor: this room is messy, i must c l e a n
> 
> connor: i should dumb things down  
> also connot: *creates a functional robot with little "flaw" and "mistakes" within like 3 days* my bby can destroy the roomba


	10. Tripping Your Way to Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor (unexpectedly) overworks himself, execute a flawless plan, and trips his way into the first meeting with Pepper.

**[ 3 DECEMBER, 2011. SATURDAY. 5:30:00 ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK: CURRENT APARTMENT ] **

Connor’s system powers on as his internal alarm went off. He gets up from the bed, having started Rest Mode the night previous. He feels slightly uncomfortable as he takes in his surroundings. Connor Anderson’s room, _my_ room, he reminds himself. He was Connor Anderson now. 

The walls were painted white, and the floor was white carpet. There were no dust or even hair within the home. He had made sure of that when he scrubbed down the apartment the first day he moved in. The room only contained a bed, a desk, and a chair. Other than that it was bare.

There are no pictures, of family or friends, that would tell stories about Connor Anderson. There were are no posters that would sing to the watcher what music the teen likes or what idols he moons over. There are no knick knacks laying around the room to shout what the teen enjoys doing in his free time. There is nothing about the room that would even suggest that a teen was living there, other than a few articles of clothing hanged in the closet. 

Not that there would ever be someone that would step foot within the room to begin with. 

Connor slides on one of his button up shirts and put on another pair of slacks. Walking to the equally bare living room. 

Connor Anderson was a lonely existence, he thought to himself. Oddly pitying the boy that he created. 

_You cannot feel pity for something that is fake._ The RK800 snaps, repeating a fact that Connor already knew. He wouldn’t repeat the same mistake again, hopefully. 

\---

**[ 3 DECEMBER, 2011. SATURDAY. 5:45:39 ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK: CURRENT APARTMENT [ **

The coin spins in the air again as Connor repeats the routine for the uptenth time. There was nothing to do. Once again he felt the ever so dreadful boredom. Even though school was boring and utterly excruciating to attend. At least it was something. 

Connor decides to go back to Stark’s workshop. It was slightly early, but what employer didn’t like some initiative and efficiency in their employees?

Stark wouldn’t care, Connor thought as he put on a blazer, his tie, and swing his backpack over his shoulder. He slides on his shoe before leaving the empty apartment. 

“I’ll be back!” he says to the thin air. No reply. 

\--- 

**[ 3 DECEMBER, 2011. SATURDAY. 6:09:39 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: 79th FLOOR ] **

Walking down the hall, Connor feels like he was breaking a law. It was illogical, there was no rule that was preventing him from entering Stark’s workshop early. The man never said anything about it, so Connor assumes that he wouldn’t mind either. 

He flashes his I.D tentatively, somewhat expecting a British voice to deny him entry.

The door slides open. “Welcome, Mr. Anderson.” Apparently not. 

He steps through the door quickly before the A.I could change its mind. 

\---

When he passes through the door he was greeted with the sight of MATT I zooming around, hopefully serving his function as expected. Yesterday, when he puts the robot on a test run the robot bumped into every surface possible. Though it did vacuum it seemed to spend more time struggling to navigate the room instead. But Connor wasn’t surprised, it was what he had intended for the MATT I. 

The first time MATT I would be put to use, it was meant to be clunky. Bumping into everything within its path, more than once. The second time using the MATT I would be smoother, having mapped the surrounding area last time. With more usage the MATT I would become more efficient at cleaning with less bumping into walls and more moving against the walls. 

However, he had made sure to include some flaws within the code and design of the robot which would make sure that it wouldn’t do well in the current market if it were to be released. Afterall, Stark must expect there to be some kind of flaw within his intern’s first prototype. And Connor will provide plenty of flaws. 

Connor walks up the the robot stopping its cleaning mode before lifting it up, pretending to be inspecting it.

“Oh no, so many flaws and errors!” He gasped. Faking disappointment when looking at the prototype. 

“According to the data I’ve collected, the battery life is worse than I predicted with the MATT I only being able to last 62 minutes for its run time after a full charge. The charge time is also long as well with the MATT I taking up 3.4 hours! The cliff detection is also bad as well!” Connor bemoaned, with a tone that he thought came off as whiny but was instead a flat monotone, as he put the MATT I up on the edge of a table, powering on the machine, and watching with anticipation for it to fall. 

It didn’t as it zooms around the table picking up dust as it moves along, coming close to the edge, but never falling off. On its way to complete a full course around the table. 

Connor quickly picks up the machine before it could ruin things further. 

“There are so many other flaws that I just can’t list!” Or couldn’t seeing as he didn’t install any other errors, “oh well, this is to be expected of my _first_ prototype,” Connor said to himself cheerfully. But of course he said it loud enough for JARVIS to pick up on. 

He was sure he had “nailed it” as Hank would say. 

According to his plans if JARVIS informs Stark of this event, or even better yet show Stark the recording, then Stark could see that even though Connor’s first attempt was lackluster at best it had potential. Showcasing Connor’s talent with robotics and programming. 

Surely, this plan would work. 

He sets the MATT I down gently, before walking to his workstation. It was time to “improve” on his previous mistakes. He starts to plan out MATT II, all the while leaving MATT I free to roam. It was nice to hear the sound of the little machine as it went about its job. 

\---

 **[ 3 DECEMBER, 2011. SATURDAY. 12:00:02 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

“Mr. Anderson you’ve been here for near 6 hours now,” JARVIS informed.

“Yes?” Connor replied back as he focuses on MATT II, already a quarter done with MATT II. It was much easier to build a robot when he already has a model already made and all one needs to do is to make some “improvements.”

“Are you hungry? Perhaps I could order takeout for you,” JARVIS offered kindly. Connor shakes his head. There was no need, he doesn’t need to eat. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m okay, JARVIS. Thank you for the offer.” 

It was normal for about 5 minutes before the A.I spoke up.

“I have informed sir of the situation and he has told me to order the takeout regardless of your opinion.” Connor gave a nod to the A.I’s words. 

About 10 minutes later the Chinese takeout was delivered straight to the workshop.

And about 6 hours later JARVIS ordered another. 

Connor doesn’t touch it. 

\---

**[ 3 DECEMBER, 2011. MONDAY. 23:30:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor stood up from the incomplete machine. 

“Mr. Anderson, you haven’t eaten all day.”

Oh, right. 

“Oh, don’t worry JARVIS I’ll just binge everything at home,” Connor gives a reassuring smile as he looks upwards. He takes the takeout bags along with him as he leaves Stark’s workshop.

He promptly gives the food to a homeless man on his way home. 

\--- 

**[ 5 DECEMBER, 2011. MONDAY. 15:29:05 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

When Connor enters the workshop he expects to see Stark, however, he was once again greeted with an empty workshop with no genius billionaire in sight. 

As if already knowing his thoughts JARVIS spoke up, “Mr. Stark was delayed and will be here shortly.”

Connor gives a nod to the ceiling before making it back to his workstation. The MATT II was complete. The MATT II was completely similar in design with the MATT I, except for a neat II scrawled on its left side with a permanent marker. Its dimensions were bigger and he had made some improvements to the model with its battery now lasting up to 75 minutes with a charge time of 3 hours. 

He powers on the MATT II. He wanted to impress Stark when the man comes in and the best way to do that was to show the MATTs in action. He went to fetch the MATT I only to come back to an empty space, MATT II has wandered off during the time it took Connor to capture the original MATT. 

This time, having learnt his mistake, he takes the MATT I with him to catch its predecessor. It was easy enough to hold the two robots with his two arms. They weren’t big, and they certainly wasn’t heavy, he was built to be able to carry much heavier things. 

He shifted the two robots a bit, for a better grip on the two, before realizing his error as he accidentally activated the clean mode of the MATT II. He lets go of the MATT II on instinct before watching the robot zoom around wildly. On the fastest speed. 

He didn’t reset the speed setting for the cleaning robot yesterday when he was testing the speed, thinking that there was no need to. And with the need to come up with “innovations” for the MATT series he decided that the only way to adjust the speed setting was by manually adjusting it while holding the robot itself, having plans to create an app at a later date. 

He makes a note to create the app as soon as possible. He sets down the original MATT for maximum mobility before breaking into a sprint, Stark would be here shortly and currently the setting for the MATT II wasn’t optimized. The main concern for Connor was that he has inserted in an ‘error’ within the robot that would make it so that sometimes the camera and map layout would not work, thus making the robot unable to “see” obstacles within its way. A function that he would slowly improve on until it disappears by MATT VI. 

Meaning that right now the MATT II has a 70% chance of crashing into the wall that it was heading towards, and a 100% chance of the crash causing serious damage at the speed its going at. 

Which would definitely _not_ impress Stark. 

He dashes towards the front of the workshop, near the door to where the MATT II was headed. The robot was heading dangerously close to the door. Fortunately, he was an arm’s distance away from the robot. He reaches out to grab at it when it was mere inches away from the wall. The MATT II suddenly makes a 180 turn to rush at him instead, and at the close distance that they were, Connor couldn’t react in time and was tripped. 

So the MATT II’s camera function was working properly. 

At this wonderful moment in Connor’s life the MATT I arrived. It promptly started vacuuming the android’s back. Running up and down Connor's spine. 

At least the robot was functional. 

Connor makes a move to get up and maybe get a resemblance of his pride back when the door to the workshop opens.

In walks Stark and a woman which he identifies as Virginia “Pepper” Potts, Stark’s personal assistant. 

Connor raises his hand to wave at the pair. He quickly adds in a friendly smile as well.. 

Stark face was slack with surprise for about 5 seconds, before his lips were wobbly in an attempt to contain his laughter. 

Potts was just shocked. Eyes wide and jaws gaping.

“Hello there, Mr. Stark,” he says in a professional voice. Hoping that the man would ignore his current position. 

“Pepper that’s my intern, Connor. Connor, that’s Pepper my personal assistant. And Pepper, I swear that he’s a genius.” 

Connor could hear MATT II knocking over a table in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor is totally great at this being human gig guys (not really). Pray for the poor boy, he's trying and he thinks that he's sliding under all those radars when he's just charging through all of them at the same time. 
> 
> This chapter in a summary:
> 
> Connor: *wakes up* am i real?
> 
> Connor: OH WOW LOOK AT MY TOTAL FAILURE OF A ROBOT, HINT, HINT, MR. STARK PLS NOTICE ME.  
> Inside Connors head: Oh yeah i totally nailed it. 
> 
> Connor: Oh right human teens need food.  
> also Connor: lmao you cant make me eat. 
> 
> Connor: I wanna impress Mr. Stark.  
> Literally 1 minute later: Hey Mr. Stark and Ms. Pepper, pls ignore the carnage going on the background and ignore me too pls.


	11. Introducing the MATTs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor introduces the MATTs, plans market domination, and is asked an important question

**[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ]  
[ 5 DECEMBER, 2011. MONDAY. 15:31:54 ]**

Connor gets up by himself, catching the MATT I quickly before it could fall off his back. Stark’s lips were still wobbly, laughter still threatening to escape. He looks about ready to start laughing his ass off at Connor’s expense. 

Which was understandable, but certainly not in Connor’s plan. He stops the thirium from rushing to his cheeks. 

Despite the small setback, he will gain Stark’s approval. 

Potts, on the other hand, was starting to calm herself down from the earlier disaster. If Connor wasn’t an android meant for interrogation he might’ve never been able to tell how she was still shock and slightly amuse at the disaster that was Connor’s life. He gives her a quick bow before dashing off to catch the MATT II before it can cause him further trouble. For example, knocking over something that worth more than Connor can pay back. 

Catching the MATT II was surprisingly easy. Perhaps it was done for the day after executing its plan of ruining Connor’s image forever. Which Connor might’ve suspected if it was sentient. It wasn’t, he knows because he had programmed it. 

He walks towards Stark and Potts again, his strides were confident, looking perfectly compose despite the utter humiliation that he had just experienced. 

“Welcome back, Mr. Stark. And pleased to meet you at last, Ms. Potts,” Connor said stoically before taking the woman’s hand and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. 

This greeting was supposedly more charming than waving according to Hank. 

He lets go of the woman’s hand, and straighten his back just as quickly. Stark gave him an offended gasp. 

“What about my kiss?” the man whined, face scrunching up into a pout. Connor reaches for Stark’s calloused hand as well, bending down to do the same and planting a quick kiss on the man’s knuckles as well.

Stark shoves him away lightly, his face was playful and a bit surprised. 

“What the heck are you doing Connor?” the man questioned, face set into an exaggerated expression of disgust as he wipes his knuckles on his pants. The man even stuck his tongue out. 

“I thought you wanted the same treatment as Ms. Potts,” Connor answered easily, “you said and I quote ‘what about my kiss?’ so I naturally assumed that you had wanted me to treat you the same as her. I assure you that none of my saliva has gotten on your hands and my lips are sanitized.”

Stark just snorts and waves his hand, his eyes portraying some kind of message to Pepper. Who was standing there with a small smile on her face. 

“Nice to meet you as well, Connor,” the woman gave him a friendly smile. 

“So what have you been doing here kid?” Stark asks looking pointedly at the two MATTs. 

Connor very visibly lights up, feeling excited as he leads Stark to MATT I, who was now more interested in running under one of the tables. 

He picks the robot up gently and powers it down.

“This here is the MATT I, the first prototype for the MATT series,” he gestures towards the little robot, holding it above his head, “it is a domestic robot, meant to vacuum and clean with various other functions I plan on implementing further along the MATT series. Currently the MATT I only has a battery life of about 62 minutes after a full charge and takes 3.4 hours to charge. The cliff detection systems aren’t very refined, and neither are the camera and sensors. However, currently it is indeed a functioning model, capable of vacuuming most spaces around your workshop and has been functioning fine during the trial period,” Connor summarized, turning the power back on and letting the little robot roam free. 

“However, that is to be expected of my _first prototype._ ” Connor put special emphasis on the last two words. 

Stark said nothing, his face was frozen, set in a neutral expression. Despite all his facial analyzing programs, he couldn’t quite decipher what the man was thinking. Potts was much easier to read, with how wide her eyes were and the small gasp of delight. Good, at least he was impressing Potts, and according to his research the woman have some sway over Stark.

If Stark wasn’t impressed, Connor can be reassured that Potts would help Connor convince him otherwise soon enough. Stark obviously holds the woman in high esteem, it was only logical that her opinions would be as well. 

He continue on his path to the MATT II, picking it up as well and practically shoving into Stark’s face.

“This is the MATT II, the MATT I’s successor. Built within two days after the completion of the MATT I. This model was meant to improve on the previous model’s failures and flaws. And it has. For example this model can last up to 75 minutes after a full charge, which is an increase of 20.97% in its work time,” Connor nods cheerfully, pausing for a moment to regain his ‘breathe, “also the battery charging time has decreased by 11.76% going from 204 minutes to only 180 minutes. The cliff detection system has also improved by 6.01%, the cameras by 7.32% and the sensors by 3.22%. I already have plans for creating MATT III and it is estimated that it’ll take me about 19.04 hours to make it,” after Connor concluded his advertisement he flash the frozen pair a stunning smile. 

Waiting for their input or opinion, only to receive silence in return. 

Maybe they need more convincing, he could do that.

“My plans for the MATT series are to have them be released to the public one day, after several modifications and features have been added. Currently, the Roombas are dominating the domestic robot market. However, if the MATT series were to be released and be under Stark marketing. I am 79.42% certain that the MATT series will overtake the Roomba as the leading domestic robot.”

Stark seem to have regained control of his body as he hurriedly takes the MATT II from Connor’s arms. He lifts the robot up, studying it closely. His face breaks out into a grin. 

“You’re telling me that you created this within the week that I was gone?” the man asked, setting the MATT II down and follows the robot as it goes around the room. Connor follows him as well as Potts. 

Was Stark suspicious of him getting outside help? Perhaps, anyone would be skeptical. 

“Yes, indeed, I created both MATT I and II by myself within the week. I assure you that no outside help were involved in their creation, no one other than you and Ms. Potts have even heard of the MATT series. You can ask JARVIS for confirmation.”

Stark shoots him a grin, his hands seem to be twitching, as if eager to do something. 

“So you want these babies to beat the Roomba,” Stark summarized still trailing after the MATT II. 

“Yes, indeed. Although these ‘babies’ are not quite good enough but they should be able to surpass the current Roomba by the fifth iteration,” Connor replied stiffly, the word ‘baby’ rolling awkwardly off this audio module. Stark gave a little chuckle at his sentence, although Connor didn’t get why. 

Stark looks like he was about to go and ask another question when Potts cleared her throat. Connor knew that the gesture wasn’t done out of a need, but to get Stark’s attention. 

“Tony, aren’t you forgetting something?” Potts reminded Stark cryptidly. Within a moment all signs of previous cheer seem to sap out of Stark’s face as the man suddenly became stern. 

The man crossed both of his arms and looked straight at Connor. For some reason the android couldn’t help but feel like he did something wrong. 

“You want to tell me why you haven’t been eating Connor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor is going full speed down the suspicion train right now and he aint got any plans of slowing down. 
> 
> This chapter in a summary:
> 
> tony: wheres mah kiss  
> connor: *does it*  
> tony: what the hell!  
> connor: but you-  
> tony: digsuting  
> connor: ...  
> tony: do it again
> 
> connor: IKR MR STARK THEY SUCK SO MUCH, BUT SURELY YOU UNDERSTAND, SO MANY FLAWS!!! D:  
> also connor: these are my matts theyre gonna destroy the roomba.
> 
> next chapter (not really, but is probably more canon):  
> tony: why the heck havent u been eating  
> connor, probably: im powered by the sun


	12. Do as I Say, Not as I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is actually competent for once, lectured by Tony, and then lectures Tony.

**[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ]  
[ 5 DECEMBER, 2011. MONDAY. 15:36:22 ] **

Connor analyzes Stark’s face, time going by in nanoseconds, trying to figure out what exactly the man wanted him to say. Connor gave a little exhale in disappointment as the man betrayed nothing but seriousness. 

Connor ran through several answers through his program, picking and filtering for the best answers that he could come up with. Reconstruction was really useful in all situations. Multiple simulations run through his program as the time continue to speed by in nanoseconds, another useful feature. 

After the simulations were completed Connor file all of his answers and excuses into an adequate answer for Stark and prepared for all the follow-up questions that the man would ask. Connor adjusts his tie before he starts speaking. 

“The chinese takeout that you had ordered had approximately 1210 calories, and 576 of those calories are from fat, which isn’t very healthy. The total fat was 64g, the cholesterol was 245mg, and the sodium was very concerning at 3550mg. The rest of the nutrition was alright, however with those numbers above I find it quite difficult to even take a bit of such an unhealthy meal,” Connor concluded looking at Stark with confidence he didn’t know he possessed. 

Stark gave him a frustrated sigh, looking at Potts speaking with her with just his eyes alone. 

“Why didn’t you drink the water that JARVIS got you then?” 

“I’m on a… special diet,” Connor answered hesitantly. Stark’s eyes narrowed at the statement. 

“Special how?” Stark asked. Connor didn’t answer, trying to think of what he could possibly consume without the addon. 

Nothing, except oxygen if that counted. 

“Special how?” Stark repeated, looking very interested in the answer.

“I am… uncomfortable with the idea of someone else handling my food,” Connor decided to veer the conversation into a different path, “According to the CDC around 63% of employees don’t wash their hands before handling food, those statistics made me highly dubious with the quality of most restaurants food. Which is why I only eat food that I have prepared myself.”

The statement was partly true, he was very dubious about the quality of food created by humans which was why he has taken up the apron, figuratively and literally, and started cooking for Hank.

Stark looked like he didn’t believe him but the man conceded, letting out a huff of air. Stark raises his hands in surrender, which made Potts shoot him a glare. She gave him a polite smile before dragging Stark out of the lab, presumably to lecture the man for reasons unknown to Connor. 

Connor didn’t care either way as he let out an exhale of relief. 

Good. He was doing well. 

\---

**[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ]  
[ 5 DECEMBER, 2011. MONDAY. 15:45:21 ] **

Stark comes back sometime later, groaning and mumbling about Potts. The man looks at Connor who was currently making the MATT III, now much more proficient in handling the various types of equipment. 

Connor turns his head towards the man who was now only an arm’s reach away from him. 

The man cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his feet a bit. 

“Look, kid, Connor,” the man started looking at everywhere but Connor, “I know how easy it is to lose yourself creating and challenging yourself, and even the expectations too alright?” Connor didn’t get what Stark was talking about, but the man seem to start gaining momentum, “you’re young, I get it, you can do whatever the hell you want and you’ll spring back the next day. But when you start building habits, especially unhealthy and destructive habits, you’re not going to bounce back that easily when you’re my age. Starving yourself and depriving yourself of sleep isn’t going to make your inventions any better, Connor,” in fact, it does, “even though it might be cool now I swear it’s not gonna be later when your health starts declining.” 

The man gave a huge sigh, “What I just wanna say is that you gotta start taking your health seriously, Connor. I know I’m a huge hypocrite, talking to you about health and healthy habits, but you don’t wanna grow up into someone like me, kid.” Stark’s last sentence seemed oddly sentimental, and a bit sad. His contradicting statement making Connor even more confused. What teen didn’t want to be the next Stark when they grow up? Having an empire of their own, built with dollar bills and coins, sitting high atop the capitalist world. 

The man right now was weirdly fragile in a way that Connor couldn’t quite explain, transparent and weak. A husk of a man, would be what Connor describe Stark. 

The man’s eye bags were deeper than ever, his eyes sunken, the wrinkles were more pronounced, the scars around his hand more obvious. Connor takes all of these details into account, trying to make a profile of the man. Hoping that there could be something that he could do. Not for the man, he reminds himself, but for the sake of his mission. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Stark, according to my calculations if you change to a healthier lifestyle now you have an 85.66% chance of being able to live up to 88 years old at the very least,” Connor informed the man. That was what the man wanted to hear right?

Stark gave out a loud laugh. The loudest he’d heard by Stark. 

“I think that you’re a good kid, Connor. Just- just don’t let yourself go alright?” Connor has no idea what the man meant by ‘letting himself go.’ 

“I cannot guarantee anything, Mr. Stark,” was all Connor could give the man. The man looks a bit disappointed with the answer but gives a chuckle. 

‘What am I doing, getting emotional,” the man mumbles, “anyways, I’m just saying don’t overwork yourself, Connor.” All previous sentiments seem to be gone, the man straightens his back and then he was the confident and strong Stark once more. He turns around saying something about changing before leaving the workshop. 

“I can’t guarantee that either, Mr. Stark,” Connor repeats, looking at the man’s back. Hearing no reply in return. 

An enigma, somewhat like a Rubix cube, Connor thinks. 

Fortunately, he was good at solving Rubix cubes. 

\--- 

**[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ]  
[ 5 DECEMBER, 2011. MONDAY. 21:30:00 ] **

When Stark came back to the workshop later, the atmosphere was a bit awkward. The man avoided looking at him and he appeared embarrassed. Perhaps by his overly emotional demeanor from before?

Connor didn’t mind either way, Stark’s feelings didn’t matter to him nor the mission. 

Connor silently walks to the door, looking back once last time at the man. 

Stark didn’t consume any food either. 

\---

**[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ]  
[ 6 DECEMBER, 2011. TUESDAY. 19:45:09 ] **

Today Connor kept his eye out for Stark, deciding that observing the man would bound to make his profile much more accurate and thus his simulations and reconstructions. 

He takes note of the minuscule changes in the man’s expression as he went about his work. The scrunches of his brows as he messed up or was stuck, the dilated pupils as he made a breakthrough, the different tunes the man hummed depending on his mood, and even how regularly the man blinked. 

He compresses all of his notes into a file labeled as “Stark.” 

He couldn’t help but feel a bit like a stalker. 

The man didn’t consume any food today as well.

\---

**[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ]  
[ 7 DECEMBER, 2011. WEDNESDAY. 15:41:40 ] **

Connor lifts up the MATT III with pride swelling within his chest. After exactly 19.04 hours, as calculated, the third sibling in the MATT series was done. The current MATT III had some changes with its design, for example, the body was blockier and sleeker than the previous. There was also an ‘III’ scrawled on the side of its body. 

Connor decides to not show Stark the newest model to the MATT series, after observing that the man was absorbed in his current project, opening up various 3D holographic models. 

Connor decides to start creating an app for the MATT series, first to have a better way to visualize and track the data of each robot to show to Stark and second, to have a better way to manage the MATT models and avoid the disaster that occurred. 

He decides to name the app MAPP. 

He feels slightly proud of his creativity. He hums a tune that he recognized as Stark’s, an audio file by the name of [ STARK’S AUDIO: 08 EXCITED ]. One of the tunes that the man would hum when he was excited.. 

Connor quickly puts a stop to the audio track. Turning around and confirming that Stark hasn’t heard him. 

It must be an error in his coding. 

\--- 

**[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ]  
[ 9 DECEMBER, 2011. FRIDAY. 17:33:12 ] **

Connor lets out a small smile when he finally finished creating the MAPP. He goes to gather his three creations as they roam around, moving together as a pack. It was cute, he thinks before erasing the thought completely as he remembers that they were only machines. 

He squats down in front of them before connecting them all to the app, they had tried to escape as usual but he grabbed each one of them before they could get too far. They were surprisingly stubborn in their attempt to get away, but he was equally stubborn in his goal to get them to stay. 

When he was finally done all the MATTs dashed away, running away from Connor. Like children, Connor thinks, little devious children sent from hell to torture him. 

When Connor was walking back to his workstation he notices, yet again, that Stark wasn’t eating. 

So much for healthy habits.

“Mr. Stark,” Connor called softly, walking slowly to the man. 

The man turns around with a disgruntled look, clearly frustrated.

“What?” the man spat out grumpily. 

God, not this. 

“I have noticed that you haven’t eaten either these past few days,” Connor stated looking at Stark. The man gave him a grunt before turning around to do his work again. Connor, who has lots of experience of dealing with grumpy old men, grabs him by his shoulder. 

“This is not healthy, Mr. Stark,” Connor informed, looking intently at the man. The man gave a frustrated sigh. 

“Screw off, kid. You don’t eat either!” the man retorted trying to shake off Connor’s arm. Too bad that he was weaker than Connor. 

“Indeed, however, I am young, and as you stated, ‘can bounce back.’ While you… not so much.”

Stark gaped at him.

“Are you calling me old?” Connor resisted the urge to roll his eyes, was this what the man was concerned about?

“Yes.” Stark let out an offended screech. Connor started speaking again before the man could start ranting at him. 

“Well, Mr. Stark, if you really wanted me to start building some healthy habits, you- as the responsible adult- should show me through your actions,” Connor stated emotionlessly at the man who was now doing a frown that was more like a kicked puppy than a grown man. 

“What about your parents, go copy them!” the man retorted, trying to swat Connor away with his, weak, legs. 

“Both Amanda and Elijah are overseas, Mr. Stark,” Connor repeated. The man stop trying to kick him, somehow turning somber at the statement. He seems to stop struggling as well so he releases the man. 

The man looks like he was seriously considering it. 

“JARVIS! Please order the healthiest meal at Mr. Stark’s favorite restaurant,” Connor requested, gaze focused on the ceiling. 

“Very well, Mr. Anderson,” the A.I replied in a smug tone. 

“Wait- no, JARVIS! Cancel that order!” Stark shouted suddenly energetic. 

“Oh sorry, sir, but I have already ordered it,” the A.I replied, obviously happy at Stark’s suffering. Stark seems to sink into his chair, all of his previous energy gone with the shout. Seemingly defeated at the thought of consuming healthy food. 

Later Connor kept a watchful eye on the man to make sure that he was eating, afraid that Stark was going to do something childish, he was proven right when the man attempted to ‘accidentally’ drop the food onto the floor. 

So Connor stood there, standing with his arms crossed as he loomed over Stark as he forced the man to eat.

The food was still unhealthy, but no doubt better than what Stark would have ordered if given the freedom. 

An idea to win Stark’s favor appeared in Connor’s mind. 

Humans like to say that ‘the fastest way to a man’s heart was his stomach,’ Connor thinks that the saying would apply to Stark as well. 

Fortunately, Connor just happens to have an unused kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor's got plans ya'll, plans to sneak into Tony's heart. 
> 
> This chapter in a summary:
> 
> tony: why arent u eating connor  
> connor: g e r m s
> 
> tony: look kid dont be like me  
> connor: u aint dying tony stop this 
> 
> tony: dont overwork urself  
> connot: no  
> tony: well shoot, what do i do now pepper
> 
> connor: stay still  
> MATTs: lmao u thought bitch
> 
> tony: *doesnt eat despite trying to lecture connor about the importance of eating*  
> connor: b i t c h sit ur ass down. im going to get u fed


	13. Cooking For One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which connor thinks about hank a lot and go shopping and maybe try cooking.

**[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK ]  
[ 10 DECEMBER, 2011. SATURDAY. 21:00:00 ] **

Connor decides to leave early on Saturday, opting to go grocery shopping for ingredients to set his plan of winning Stark over through his cooking. 

Walking amongst the street of New York was quite different from Detroit. While it was true that most of it was due to the primitive technology, the atmosphere was different as well. The streets of Detroit, after the revolution, was filled with tension and the constant threat of violence as android and human alike hasn’t still forgotten old grudges. 

Which made for long hours at the precinct spent with interrogating and solving crimes all the while forcing Hank into a healthier lifestyle. 

Right now he has nothing to do other than meaningless homework, and the MATTs, meaning that it was high time for a side project that was bound to get him some progress on his relationship with Stark. 

He hums another tune to himself, [ STARK AUDIO: 2.3 HAPPY ], he shuts down the audio again. Opting to listen to the sound of cars driving past him. 

The tune was just catchy he tells himself. Stopping himself from humming another a minute later. 

\---

**[ WHOLE FOODS MARKET ]  
[ 10 DECEMBER, 2011. SATURDAY. 21:06:05 ] **

Connor was scanning through different types of apples, searching up several healthy but tasty recipes that he could cook up. Stark wasn’t known for his healthy habits, and from first hand experience Connor knows that the man is more likely to starve than to let a single piece of vegetable pass through his lips. 

The man had tried various times to knock the food over, or hide pieces of carrots and beans, in a display of defiance. The man glared at him a few times when Connor acted out on his desire to just stuff the carrot bits and beans into the man’s mouth and just get it over with. Fortunately for Stark, Connor decided to not act out on his threat and Stark gulped down the carrot and beans as if it were poison. 

It was going to be very difficult for Connor to get the man into a healthy diet. 

But he didn’t deal with Hank for nothing. 

Connor decides to forgo making an apple pie, changing it to Cajun Seafood Pasta instead. Hank liked that recipe, so maybe Stark would too.

He walks across the vegetable aisle, eyes flying over each ingredient. He spots the white peppers making quick steps to the location. 

He holds one of them up, inspecting their quality.

_“Jesus christ! Are you really getting those? Again?”_

Connor turn around, eyes searching for someone that he knows isn’t there. 

“Hank?” he called out. No reply. He tries to return to his task, despite being quite frazzled. 

_“Don’t you know I hate those?” A scoff._

_“Hank, I remind you that you had reacted quite favorably to this recipe last time.” A snort._

_“That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I ain’t eating any of that.”_

_A soft sign._

_“Come on, Hank. Give it a try, maybe you’ll come to like it again.”_

_Grumbling along with the sound of a dog barking._

_“See? Even Sumo agrees with me!”_

_More excited barking. An exhausted sigh._

_“Hank, Sumo is not a valid excuse.”_

_“Why the hell are we shopping at Whole Foods anyways? Do you want me to go bankrupt?”_

_Offended gasp along with the sound of plastic._

_“Hank, I must repeat that I am doing this for your health.”_

_Grumbling and the sound of steps._

_“Hank, if you leave now you are going to make me very sad.”_

_An abrupt halt and a loud exhale._

_“Okay, okay, Connor. Jeez, I swear you are getting more and more manipulative by the second.”_

_A small smile._

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about… Dad.”_

Connor shuts down the video file, his hands shaky. 

Connor Anderson didn’t know anyone by the name of Hank. 

Connor Anderson only has one father, Elijah Anderson. 

In Connor Anderson’s life there was no such person as Hank Anderson. 

\--- 

**[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK: CURRENT STATION ]  
[ 10 DECEMBER, 2011. SATURDAY. 22:10:32 ] **

Connor manages to get to his current place of shelter with all of the ingredients. He tosses all of them inside the refrigerator. Cooking the food fresh was bound to taste better than if he were to reheat it the next day. 

As he lays in bed he shuts down another memory file. 

Connor Anderson does not dream. 

\---

**[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK: CURRENT STATION ]  
[ 11 DECEMBER, 2011. SUNDAY. 04:00:00 ] **

He wakes up early the next day, an hour and 30 minutes earlier than usual. He fastens on his apron, not wanting his white dress shirt to become dirty. He quickly go over the recipe once again just to be sure. 

First, he started with the pasta cooking it all within a pot of salted boiling water. Then he sets it aside to go work on the sauce. 

While he was chopping the fresh basil he once again hear the voice of a man he never knew. 

_“Connor, you just came back from a case and you’re cooking?”_

_Loud footsteps._

_“Yes, Lieutenant, all of my injuries were minor and have been self repaired. I just lost 5.23% of my thirium, meaning that I am still very well functional.”_

_A soft sigh._

_“Look kid, that’s not what I was talking about. I know that case was pretty tough on you, alright?”_

_The ‘chop, shop’ as the knife sliced through basil continues, more footsteps._

_“I have no idea what you are talking about, Lieutenant.”_

_An even grumpier sigh, along with a small pat on his back._

_“See? You’re even referring to me by ‘Lieutenant!’ You’re obviously not fine, Connor.”_

_No reply, more chopping._

_Abruptly, the weight and warmth of a grown man cocooned around him._

_“Hank, what are you doing?”_

_A chuckle. A quick and rough ruffle with his hair._

_“You go hangout with Sumo on the couch, I can handle cooking for one day.”_

_Small protest._

_“Go on! Are you doubting my skills?”_

_Giggling. Tension gone._

_“I hope that you won’t burn down the kitchen tonight again.”_

_A grunt, a small hidden grin. A playful punch._

_“Yeah, yeah, go keep Sumo company, you’re cooking tomorrow.”_

_“Yes, Dad.”_

__

Connor sets the knife down carefully and turns off the stove. He takes off his apron and sits down on his couch. He looks to see his hands trembling and his breathing function has been stopped. 

He cease the trembling of his hands and resumed the feature. He goes to feel his LED, only to meet smooth skin. He clutches at his coin instead, the trembling of his hands continuing despite his orders.

Connor Anderson never knew a Hank. Connor Anderson never had a pet. 

He closes his eyes.

Connor Anderson’s parents were never home and they never will come home. Connor Anderson never had and never will understand the concept of family. Connor Anderson didn’t care. Connor Anderson isn’t lonely. Connor Anderson is fine being all alone. Connor Anderson cares about nothing except success. Connor Anderson doesn’t have any attachments. 

He is Connor Anderson.

The RK800 open its eyes, hands stable, breath calm. 

It is Connor Anderson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a reminder that the angst tag is still alive and well. connors also having a crisis so theres that. 
> 
> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> connor: thinks about hank  
> connor: *tries not to cry*  
> also connor: *gets identity crisis instead*
> 
> connor: *about to cry bc of hank*  
> connor: who the hecking heck is hank 
> 
> connor basic mood: who am i


	14. Sliced Apples and Warm Blazers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor Anderson can't cook, Connor can, Tony finally sleeps and (not really) hates apple.

**[ 11 DECEMBER, 2011. SUNDAY. 4:02:00 ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK: CURRENT STATION ] **

The RK800 rest for a total of 120.00 seconds before it stood up. It dumps the pot of boiling water and all the ingredients into the trash. 

Connor Anderson doesn’t know how to cook. 

It was Connor Anderson. 

\---

**[ 11 DECEMBER, 2011. SUNDAY. 5:00:00 ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK: CURRENT STATION ] **

Connor regained control of his breathing once more. Testing his movements and reflexes by playing with his coin. 

It was good, he was good. 

He watches the coin move through the air with a strange sense of detachment, his hands moving automatically through the motions. 

Once the routine was completed he carefully pockets the coin. It wasn’t his original coin, the original was sitting on his desk- unused. This was a coin from this universe, the weight slightly off and unmarred. 

Someone like Stark, according to his profile of the man, wouldn’t care if Connor cooks him a meal or not. Surely, the man would appreciate cold hard cash over a warm meal. Stark would appreciate a money printer rather than a domestic android. 

Connor would give Stark all the cash a human would ever want and more. In return, Stark would give him access to more materials. Making Stark like him was just a bonus objective. 

That was all their relationship should be.

 _Would_ be.

\--- 

**[ 11 DECEMBER, 2011. SUNDAY. 5:20:04 ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK: CURRENT STATION ] **

Connor couldn’t help but think of Stark’s steadily declining health and his unhealthy habits. How all of it was going to one day bite him in the ass and sends the billionaire into an early grave. Couldn’t help but think of what will happen if Connor doesn’t at least help. 

~~Couldn’t help but see Hank in the man.~~

Connor is weak, this he knows. 

He takes an apple that he had stored in the fridge, having forgotten it during his cleaning spree. 

He peels it and cuts it up into pieces, storing it inside a Tupperware. 

This wasn’t enough, clearly not enough to fix the man’s habits. This Connor also knows. But it was something. 

He says to himself that he’s doing this for his for his plan, his mission. 

\---

**[ 11 DECEMBER, 2011. SUNDAY. 06:00:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

When Connor walks through the door he sees Stark hunched over, eyes closed, mouth open with little snores escaping, and pencil still in hand. The man was half laying over a blueprint of some kind, however, his chest and arm were blocking what it was. 

He presumed the man has just fallen asleep without meaning to, considering his notorious lack of sleep and lack of alcoholic content laying around his resting body. 

Connor lets out a huff of amusement before stopping the motion. 

Connor Anderson didn’t have emotions. 

~~He didn’t want to wake up Stark.~~

He turns off the MATTs, they were quite still noisy. Something that he plans on fixing later. However, if Stark falls asleep that often within his lab the feature would have to be added soon. 

He sees the man shivering, and sees the goosebumps on his tan skin. The A/C was currently on full blast and telling JARVIS to turn it down would undoubtedly wake Stark. 

Connor takes a few steps closer to the man taking off his blazer, he gently sets it on the man. Trying to adjust the position to be more comfortable while he was at it. No doubt the man would have wicked back and neck pain when he wakes up.

He briefly remembers the romantic comedies that he was forced to watch, ~~_Hank_~~ , and wants to chuckle. 

Stark was the complete opposite of the easily charmed and oblivious female lead. 

Connor Anderson was the perfect male lead if he thinks about it. Cold, rich, and intelligent. Unfeeling and emotionless. A ‘broken family’ as well. Practically waiting for the female lead to fix him with her warmth and affections, filling up the hole inside his heart. “Fixing” him. 

It was just unfortunate that Connor Anderson doesn’t have a heart. 

\---

 **[ 11 DECEMBER, 2011. SUNDAY. 08:08:44 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor could hear when Stark wakes up. The rustle of fabric as Stark sat up slowly, causing his jacket to fall of the man’s shoulders, the man snatches it before it could his the ground. Quite impressive.

“Connor? What are you doing here?” Stark asked, voice still heavy with sleep. Hair sticking up in a mess.

“I usually arrive at the lab at 6 am on weekends, Mr. Stark,” Connor answered smoothly, picking up his blazer from Stark’s hand. It was warm, he notes. 

“And you didn’t wake me up?” the man grumbled, eyes still droopy. 

“No, according to what I have seen you are severely sleep deprived. A few extra hours would have benefited you in the long run,” Connor answered smoothly, pretending to search for something inside his backpack. 

He takes out the Tupperware under Stark’s intense gaze. 

He opens the lid and slides it in front of Stark. The man looking at the content, and him, as if staring at some alien technology. 

“What the hell are these?” Stark asked, quite an obvious question in Connor’s opinions. 

“18 slices of apples,” Connor answered, handing the man a fork. 

“No, I know. Why are you giving them to me?” Stark asked, pushing the Tupperware towards Connor. Connor pushes back just as quickly and won the small battle. 

“I’ve taken note of your unhealthy diet, and I’ve taken it upon myself to at least provide you with some nutrition. Small as it may be,” Connor said cheerfully. No reply. Stark didn’t even take the fork. Rude, he notes. Connor uses the fork to stab a slice before holding it in front of Stark. 

“Say ahh,” Connor cooed. This was a particularly effective method against Hank, surely it would work with Stark as well. 

The man was stubborn and defiantly purse his mouth. 

Connor sighs in his head. Setting the fork down, he makes sure to look at the man sadly and quirk his lips downward minutely. Drawing in on himself, biting his lips a few seconds later. He looks at Stark once last time before turning around, back hunched. 

He hears the sound of Stark sighing. 

“Okay, Connor, you win.” A bite. 

“I’ll be sure to bring more healthy snacks next time as well,” Connor commented. He hears Stark grumbling. 

But when he watches Stark from the corner of his eyes the man’s lips were lifted upwards. Chewing on the apples with gusto. Humming [ STARK’S AUDIO: 2.4 HAPPY ]. 

_~~So much like Hank.~~ _

Connor Anderson never knew a Hank, he repeats. Connor Anderson doesn’t care about Stark, he repeats. 

_We are Connor Anderson._ The RK800 repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary: 
> 
> connor before: i can totes cook  
> connor now: *throws boiling water inside the trash*
> 
> tony: i am a mature adult  
> also tony: doesnt eat healthy like a c h i l d
> 
> connor: I dont care for tony  
> connor: *aggressively take care of tony*  
> connor, after: i still dont care for tony
> 
> thanks, guys, leave comments about your thoughts and all of that stuff. I love all comments especially about feedback and what you guys liked/disliked! <3


	15. Dead Man Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which connor interacts more with tony, thinks about robot things, and sees something unexpected.

**[ 12 DECEMBER, 2011. MONDAY. PM 16:10:32 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Today Connor brought with him some sliced pears. And similarly to yesterday, he guilt trips the human into taking a bite. 

The man seems to like playing the part of being a strong willed grown man, except it comes off as petulant child instead. 

It is strangely amusing and… nice. 

Connor files away the thought. The MATT IV was 89.32% near completion. 

\---

**[ 13 DECEMBER, 2011. TUESDAY. PM 15:45:44 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

After handing Stark the oranges, scanning the man’s reaction and noting oranges as Stark’s second favorite fruit. 

Connor tests the MATT IV after completing it the day previous. He had left it on last night, collecting its data through his app, tracking how well it was doing compared to its predecessor. 

The MATT IV had what could be called ‘arms’ its only function was to move objects that were in the MATT IV’s path. However, it was improvement that was long needed. 

One day the MATT series would breakthrough into android territory, and Connor would be its creator. 

\--- 

**[ 14 DECEMBER, 2011. WEDNESDAY. PM 15:55:08 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor brings mangoes as the day’s mystery snack. Stark has somewhat become used to their routine. His stubbornness now more of a front rather, laced with playfulness and a twinge of… fondness? 

No, there must be something wrong with Connor’s program. 

Connor quickly introduces Stark to the MATT IV, shoving the robot into the man’s hands. The man looks at him, grinning. Rolling his eyes at Connor’s explanation of all the MATT IV’s functions and improvements, though still listening attentively. 

“Are you sure these are not going to go full terminator on us one day?” Playful, Connor notes.

“Yes the MATT IV cannot terminate anything as of late, Mr. Stark. Though if you want me to build you an attack robot, I will do it,” Connor replied calmly. Already planning the blueprints for the new robot series. The weapons market could be open for his new robot, maybe the home defense category? Surely this new robot could rival the MATT series in its potential. However, humans do have guns, which is already useful and widespread enough… 

Making android soldiers would take a long time, due to Connor’s current level of “knowledge.” But Connor saves the idea for a future date. 

Maybe he could mash the two series together? The MATT and the unnamed model? A domestic model that can double as a defense system? That is indeed an unexplored market. Maybe Stark was onto something. Connor could see how Stark was widely admired, the man was creative and could think his way into millions just within a few moments. 

Stark snorted, waving his hands. He ruffles Connor’s hair. 

“Don’t change, kid, don’t ever change.” Teasing? Or perhaps actual advice?

Was this some kind of subtle way of giving him his go-ahead for the new series? If so, Connor will not let him down. 

“I will try, Mr. Stark.”

Though advancing the MATT series will be his top priority. 

\---

**[ 16 DECEMBER, 2011. FRIDAY. PM 15:10:03 ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK ] **

Connor navigate his way through the busy street of New York. Occasionally bumping into a few humans and getting some rude gestures. Inside his mind he was planning out the new robot series, and how he was going to incorporate that with the MATT series.

He decides to compress all the blueprints into one file. He still had to complete the MATT series. Though he would continue to think of various designs for other types of robots as well. All for impressing Stark. His mission, he reminds himself. 

“Excuse me?” A male voice called out to him. Connor stops, turning around, head still swimming with blueprints and looking at his phone tracking the progress of the MATTs to alleviate his boredom. 

“Yes?” The man asks him for some directions and Connor answered readily. He has the entire map of New York inside his head so it was easy enough. The man mumbles a quick thanks before walking away, Connor looks up for a quick second, when the man trips to steady him. The man smiles and says a quick thanks before jogging away. 

Connor’s breathing functions was paused once more. 

A man, high chance of being from European descent. Neat Blond hair, blue eyes. Looks to be around mid-twenties to early thirties. Well-built. Slight Brooklyn accent as well. 

But that really wasn’t what caught Connor's eyes, he stares at the space next to the man as the man jogs away. 

**[ NAME: STEVE ROGERS. ALIAS: CAPTAIN AMERICA ]**  
**[ BORN: 06/04/1918 // UNEMPLOYED (?) ]**  
**[ CRIMINAL RECORD: NONE ]**  
**[ DECLARED MIA IN 1945 ]**

“Wait!” he called out to the distanced figure, motor functions resuming, “Mr. Rogers, I-” he runs towards the man, pushing and shoving several people and saying rushed apologies before rushing to the blond man. It was hard to go against the flow in the crowded street, even harder still when Connor was trying to keep track of a target. Connor’s thirium pump was pumping thirium throughout his body faster and faster, building into a crescendo. It wasn’t because his body was overworking either. 

Connor got close enough to the man, the blond figure crossing the streets casually. Exhilaration bloom inside his chest. 

“Wait!”

Seconds later a bus zoomed by, as if by fate. 

“Wait, I- I,” Connor choked out the words, hands falling to his sides. He quickly scans his surroundings to find that Rogers was gone. Gone. Just like that. 

Connor stood there for a moment before quickly walking away, not wanting to gain any attention. Or more attention than he already has. He tightens his tie, straightening it and his hair. Quickly fixing his clothes and patting them down. He sees himself from a glass window and tucks the last strand of hair and pats the last wrinkle away. Nothing was wrong. He was just delayed by the crowd. 

He quickly slows down his thirium pump before the thirium starts to show through his synthetic skin. Making sure to check his core temperature as well. 

He couldn’t help but glance behind him one last time, eyes searching. 

A small and fragile whisper through his mind, seeing the silhouette of the man. 

_Are you like me?_

The RK800 pushes the whisper away. Connor Anderson didn’t care, Connor Anderson shouldn’t care. Connor Anderson didn't even know who the man was. 

It is Connor Anderson. It doesn’t have any opinions on Steve Rogers, It does not care whether Rogers was like it or not. It doesn’t care. It doesn’t. 

It can’t. 

_~~Please, say yes.~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> tony: is it gonna go terminator on me  
> connor: if u want it i will make it  
> tony: what no-  
> connor: dont worry mr stark, this is such a great idea, omg i cant believe ur actually smart.  
> tony: no-
> 
> connor: so close i can almost-  
> bus: lmao bitch please, this is a kdrama now
> 
> Hey guys! Leave some comments about what you like/disliked I love reading all of your thoughts!!! :D


	16. Celebrating for One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which tony talks to connor, leaves for more business, and there are holidays.

**[ 16 DECEMBER, 2011. FRIDAY. PM 15:30:09 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor walked through the door, absent minded and distracted. The android hands Stark his daily fruit, motions robotic and indecipherable expression. Stark’s gaze was searching as he looked at Connor, making the android feel uncomfortable at the attention. Connor cleared his throat, gesturing to the Tupperware and gave Stark a quick bow before going back to his station. 

A calloused hand stops him in his tracks. Connor turns around slowly looking at the man who had just grabbed his arm. 

“Mr. Stark?” the man continues to stare at him, face stern. 

After several moments, Connor reaches out to remove Stark’s hand from his body.

“What’s bothering you kid?” the man asked. Connor’s arm froze in mid air. 

“Why do you ask that?” Connor asked back, voice calm. Arms regaining their motion and he set his hand on top of Stark’s preparing to remove it. 

Stark sighs, exhausted. Despite Connor knowing he slept for 6 hours the night previous, which was somewhat a miracle. 

“Your behavior is all wrong,” the man explained. 

“How?” Connor wondered with curiosity and a healthy dose of anxiety. All of his programs and biocomponents are in working order. So far, his expression and movement were all very realistic as well. There was nothing that could’ve possibly hinted at him not being a human. However, Stark was a very perceptive man.

Connor hands twitch with the desire to reach for his coin, but he restrained himself. Stark… truly an intelligent human. Fitting of his title as a genius. 

Stark sighs, yet again. “I can tell that you’re seriously overthinking this Connor.” How? Connor’s expression has been set to blank. How was this human able to see through his guise? “All I wanna know is if you’re okay.” Connor shakes his head, answering Stark’s question.

“I am okay, Mr. Stark,” Connor answered mildly, in contrast to his inner turmoil. He gives Stark a friendly smile as well as a thumbs up. That was a good response, right?

“Are you sure?” Stark asked again, seemingly not believing Connor. But his grip seems to loosen so Connor takes that as a sign that things were going according to plan.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Connor repeated removing Stark’s hand gently. Stark gave him one last look before going back to his project. The man still doesn’t believe him. 

He makes a note to be more careful around Stark. 

\--- 

**[ 18 DECEMBER, 2011. SUNDAY. AM 6:00:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor lets out a chuckle before quickly stopping himself. Stark was asleep today as well shoulders hunched and face firmly planted on his table, little snores escaping and a small puddle of drool collected on his blueprints. 

Certainly not what someone would think of when they think of Stark, but somehow this awkward manchild was much better than the billionaire playboy. Connor once again removes his blazer and sets it on Stark. The motion much smoother this time. 

Connor makes a note to bring a blanket along with him on weekends. His backpack had plenty of space. Maybe a pillow while he was at it. 

He sets MATT I - IV on sleep mode while he powers on the MATT V. It made little sound, quite an improvement from MATT IV, included with a limited voice activation. 

The MATT V ran around Connor curiously. Connor gave it a quick pat before sending it on its way. 

Later when Stark woke up, he activated all five MATTs. They followed each other around, with the MATT I leading the group. They all collided into each other, except for the MATT V with better sensors. 

Cute, he thinks before attempting to erase the thought. 

\--- 

**[ 20 DECEMBER, 2011. TUESDAY. PM 15:54:33 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark announced his absence in person this time, stating that he had to go away for business for around one to two weeks. The announcement was sudden, like last time. And Connor wasn’t really sure why Stark decided to give him the news in person when he could’ve just left and save himself some time on travelling.

Stark gave Connor an awkward hair ruffle before dashing out the door, despite not being in a hurry.

Somehow the workshop seemed emptier than ever that day. The silence was deafening as there was no more of Stark’s quite mumble rants or his humming to fill it. Connor wasn’t sure why it made him uncomfortable. Connor Anderson did like silence and solidarity after all. 

Later, Connor would attempt to ruffle his hair like Stark did, wondering why the spots that Stark touch feels despite hours having passed. 

_~~Warm, like Hank.~~ _

He ceased the motion, ignoring his hair for the rest of the day. 

The warmth stayed with him as he enters sleep mode.

\--- 

**[ 25 DECEMBER, 2011. SUNDAY. AM 6:02:03 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

It was Christmas today, a day meant to be spent with family. Connor’s experience of the holiday were few, having only experienced it once. It was fun, he recalls. 

_“Connor! You’re on my side!” Shouting ensues._

_“What- that’s no fair Markus! You two? On the same team?” Agreements all around, a single laugh._

_“All’s fair in love and war, Simon.” A shout of protest._

_“Markus, this is not a war.” a fond look, and exaggerated sigh._

_“Not literally, Connor.” A grin. The sound of someone falling._

_“Hey! Who was the one that did that?” Feminine Laughter._

_“All’s fair in love and war, isn’t that right ” A grunt before chaos ensued._

_A snowball thrown there, dodge another one here, cover for Markus occasionally._

_That was until he got sick of Markus’ constant teasing._

_“Hey! Connor, you traitor!” A cold projectile was launched at him. A second later a body fell backwards._

_He was laughing, he realized._

_Warm, it was warm, and the heat had nothing to do with the weather._

He shivers, the workshop suddenly feels cold. 

Connor Anderson doesn’t care about his family, he reminds himself. He stayed inside the lab until Christmas ended. Connor Anderson hates Christmas. 

~~_Connor doesn’t._~~  
\---

**[ 28 DECEMBER, 2011. WEDNESDAY. PM 18:09:44 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark still wasn’t back yet. Connor wasn’t sure why that bothered him. 

MATT VI - VIII were created, their shape becoming closer and closer to an android. 

Soon, very soon. Connor would have a functional android within his reach. 

Despite his hesitance Connor installed some sentience within the newer MATTs. 

Just a bit, that was all.

\--- 

**[ 01 JANUARY, 2012. SUNDAY. AM 6:00:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor stayed inside the lab for the whole day as well. Obsessively working and reworking on the MATT series. 

Connor Anderson wasn’t lonely, Connor Anderson has no one to celebrate with either way. But Connor Anderson had better things to do than to celebrate. 

Connor Anderson fills his mind with blueprints and information, he has no time for distractions.

\--- 

Connor fills his head with memories and recordings later as he returns home for the day. He lay still drawing the blanket around himself, hoping to eradicate the chill that has set inside the room and inside his heart. 

He draws in on himself, shutting his eyes. Blocking out the reality of where he is. He replay various memories and recordings of his past, reliving them. He shuts his eyes tighter. He lets himself forget where he was for a moment. Who he was.

For a moment he was just Connor. 

The RK800 let it slide and doesn’t speak for the rest of the night. 

Connor lets out a choked whimper, his breathing function overworking to keep his body from overheating. He finds himself sobbing soon enough, and eventually turning to delirious mumbles and words. The RK800 stayed silent. 

Soon Connor pushes the emotions away, locking them under locks and chains, nearing his breaking point and unwilling to break down that easily. 

~~_He doesn’t know how to put himself back together if he does._~~

He doesn’t need the emotions, he doesn’t want it. 

A gentle exhale. 

He was Connor Anderson again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the summary: 
> 
> tony: r u okay  
> connor: omg he has seen through me, what a genius, is this the end what have i done wrong omg, omg, omg. how can he see through my excellent acting how how how  
> tony: chill
> 
> connor: *remember those gud christmas memories*  
> connor anderson: i hate christmas and i hate u too
> 
> connor: how to deal with my emotions  
> connor, later: I know, I'Ll JuST ignOrE iT!  
> rk800: im so proud, go me. 
> 
> comment your thoughts if you feel like it! I love reading all of them! :D


	17. Long Days Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor and tony chat for a bit. tony is gone again. connor and connor anderson keeps switching.

**[ 02 JANUARY, 2012. MONDAY. AM 9:44:23 ]  
[ MIDTOWN SCHOOL OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY ] **

School resumed. The morning started off with a whimper as teens slowly crawled back to school. Their reluctance obvious and so were the dark eye bags. 

Idle chatter washes over Connor as they shared what they did over the break. 

Connor doesn’t say a word. 

\---

**[ 02 JANUARY, 2012. MONDAY. PM 15:40:04 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor didn’t know what he was looking for when he walked into the empty lab. Stark had said that he’d be back within one to two weeks and clearly it hasn’t been two weeks yet. 

Connor lets out a quiet exhale for reasons unknown. His shoulders dropping along with his eyes. 

Connor Anderson shoved away all the distractions as he lays his hands on MATT IX. 

79.33% complete. 

MATT VI, VII, and VIII stood around him. Their ‘head’ tilted up, looking at the MATT IX. Connor wonders what their thoughts are. 

It was brief before he was Connor Anderson again. 

No distractions.

\---

**[ 03 JANUARY, 2012. TUESDAY. PM 15:38:49 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor was expecting to walk into an empty lab once again. Slowly getting used to the routine. 

What he did not expect was to see Stark surrounded by his creations. Curiously inspecting them while they were jostling him, pushing against Stark and running up against him. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark,” Connor greeted, his happiness very much real and tangible. 

Stark head snapped up, face growing stern and focused when he noticed Connor. Stark stood up from the pile of MATTs and crossed his arms. His back was straight and he was standing at his full height, despite the man being shorter he seems to stare down at Connor. 

“Is there something wrong?” Connor asked curiously, feeling small under the man’s gaze. 

The man seems to stare at Connor, mouth pressed into a thin line. Connor didn’t know why the man was in such a bad mood. Surely Connor hasn’t messed up yet.

“Did you stay inside my workshop for both Christmas and New Years?” Stark asked- interrogated. Tone calm, despite how he looks. 

“Yes?” Connor answered hesitantly, he nervously squatted down, pretending to be inspecting the MATT IX. 

“Why did you do that?” Stark persisted moving closer to Connor and uncrossing his arms, putting his hands inside his jeans pockets instead. Body language more approachable. Maybe Stark wanted him to confess something? 

“The MATT series is in need of some heavy improvements before they could take shape as a domestic android model. Christmas and New Years are not excuses to skip out on work when there is so much to improve on,” Connor answered firmly, tapping against the frame of the MATT IX. There, that was a good answer. Both telling Stark of his future plans for the MATT series and to show the man that he was serious in accomplishing his goal. 

The man gave out a loud sigh, squatting down to Connor’s level. 

“You know that Christmas and New Years are for relaxing right? Spending time with your families or friends?” Stark was face to face with Connor know, body language open and friendly. His face was slightly haggard, perhaps due to the long business trip. But still had the charm he was so well known for. 

“I must repeat that my parents are overseas and I care little for making friends, Mr. Stark. So you needn’t worry about them distracting me from my work,” Connor answered, looking away from Stark’s eyes and instead of looking at his forehead instead. 

After a long and tense pause, Stark spoke again, “... that’s not the point, Connor.” Connor fastens his tie, not really sure why the air felt so stifling despite his nonexistent need for air. 

Stark, seeing Connor’s confusion asked another question instead, “Your parents didn’t come home?” 

“No, Amanda and Elijah are busy. I am already used to it, Mr. Stark,” Connor lied smoothly, locking eyes with Stark hoping to convey his sincerity.

“You’re used to it?” Stark questioned, eyes wide and shoulders tensed. His body screamed controlled anger. But why?

“Yes,” Connor stated hesitantly, fastening his tie again. 

Stark gave a great sigh and leaned backward. They both were motionless for several moments the silence unnerving. 

Eventually Stark sets his hand on Connor’s shoulder, Connor snaps his head sideways looking directly at Stark, frozen in his position, not really sure why but something was telling him not to look away. 

“Okay, Connor. But if there's something bothering you, just- just know that I’ll be here,” Stark stated looking away from Connor. Quickly ruffling Connor’s hair before awkwardly moving away. 

Connor didn’t understand what just happened, and he doubts he ever could. 

“Thank you for the offer, Mr. Stark.” 

But Connor Anderson doesn’t need help. 

\---

**[ 04 JANUARY, 2012. WEDNESDAY. PM 15:50:11 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark was back to normal today. No mentions of yesterday’s conversation. 

That was fine with Connor. Better than fine, in fact. 

Today was once again filled with work and programming for MATT X. The 10th iteration in the MATT series, all within around one month. 

Stark’s humming once again filled the lab, Connor finds himself copying the man yet again. 

Connor paused his audio module. He doesn’t resume it for the rest of the day. 

\--- 

**[ 06 JANUARY, 2012. FRIDAY. PM 15:30:21 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Today Stark was playing with MATT IX, strange considering the fact that he was working on some random project yesterday. 

It was nice, Connor supposed. Cute even. 

Hank would never be caught doing such thing, probably prefering to jumping off a roof than be caught in a ‘soft’ moment. But Stark didn’t seem to mind as he continues prodding the robot. 

Cute. 

If Stark enjoys the MATT IX so much then would he be even happier when faced with a real android?

If so, Connor will have to speed up his plans a little. 

He reminds himself that this is for his mission. 

\--- 

**[ 14 JANUARY, 2012. SATURDAY. AM 6:00:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor gave a little sigh when he enters the lab to see Stark’s collapsed body. This time the man was on the ground sprawled out, an unfinished project laying before him. The man was snoring softly, despite denying the fact that he ever snores at all when the topic was brought up. The man was shivering again, turning the air conditioning down to 40 degrees fahrenheit the night previous, obviously in a moment of stupidity and his stubbornness to outlast himself. 

Connor takes out the grey blanket as well as a soft pillow he had stuffed inside his backpack just for this occasion. 

He gently held the man’s head up to slide the pillow under him, being sure to not wake the man. Then making sure to put the blanket over Stark’s sleeping body. 

It wouldn’t do for his employer to get sick. 

Connor quickly stops the MATT X, XI, and XII before they could pile on top of Stark. 

This proved to be a disastrous idea as the rest of the MATTs, all 12 of them, attacked Connor with vigor. And Connor, unable to damage them fell down and was suffocated by all the MATTs. They somehow had the tact to avoid his face but at this point, Connor wonders if they are domestic robots at all and not instead something sent from hell to make his life harder. 

_Devious children sent from Cyberlife._

\---  
**[ 15 JANUARY, 2012. SUNDAY. AM 11:03:39 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark went on another business trip, giving Connor a quick hug that lasted for one nanosecond before the man pull away, as if burnt by fire. 

The man said he was to return sometime in February. 

Once again leaving Connor alone. 

Connor makes a note to throw away the strawberries he bought yesterday. Stark wouldn’t need it. 

Connor Anderson doesn’t care. Connor Anderson prefers being alone and the solitude and silence. 

Connor Anderson doesn’t say a word as the man leaves, turning back to the MATT XIV. 

Blueprints and 3D models once again filling his head, leaving no room for any other thoughts. 

_~~Have a safe trip, Mr. Stark.~~ _

\--- 

**[ 17 JANUARY, 2012. TUESDAY. PM 18:21:21 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

The MATT XIV was completed, design coming closer to an android. Maybe Connor should start making some early models of biocomponents. 

\--- 

**[ 20 JANUARY, 2012. FRIDAY. PM 17:07:45 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor was humming a soft tune to himself, holding up and inspecting his ‘first draft’ for biocomponents. 

24.11% complete. 

\---

**[ 22 JANUARY, 2012. SUNDAY. PM 19:58:12 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor managed to assemble the MATT XV. Its body now more humanoid than robot, the biocomponents less human like than an android. However, it was slowly getting there. 

\---

**[ 25 JANUARY, 2012. WEDNESDAY. PM 20:03:57 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

The sound of metal clanging resounded inside the room. 

Silence. 

\---

**[ 27 JANUARY, 2012. FRIDAY. PM 19:22:10 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor Anderson holds up the MATT XVI. He feels nothing as he inspects it. 

_One step closer, a thousand left._

\---

**[ 30 JANUARY, 2012. MONDAY. PM 13:24:56 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor Anderson puts down the MATT XVII, moving onto the MATT XVIII. 

Quick, be quicker. 

\---

**[ 02 FEBRUARY, 2012. THURSDAY. PM 16:32:11 ]  
[ STARK TOWER STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

The MATT XVIII was 93.66% near completion. 

Be better. 

\---

**[ 05 FEBRUARY, 2012. SUNDAY. AM 09:48:39 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

MATT XIX was coming together, now more android like. With his estimations, he should be able to recreate an android model by around March or April, based on his efficiency and pace. 

Connor Anderson lets out a heavy exhale, work, work, and work even harder.

You have to work harder. 

Impress Stark. 

\---

**[ 10 FEBRUARY, 2012. FRIDAY. PM 15:30:12 ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK ] **

Connor spots a glimpse of gold locks within the crowd. Maybe, he thinks, jogging slightly, eyes glued on the blond hair. 

Connor Anderson dismisses it a moment later, heart calm heading straight for Stark Tower. 

MATT XXI was 57.55% complete. There was no time to waste. 

\---

**[ 12 FEBRUARY, 2012. SUNDAY. AM 6:00:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor Anderson set down the MATT XXII. Laying a scrutinizing gaze on it.

Not good enough. 

_~~Mr. Stark should be back soon.~~_

Be better.

\---

**[ 14 FEBRUARY, 2012. TUESDAY AM 12:36:17 ]  
[ MIDTOWN SCHOOL OF SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY ] **

Today was Valentine’s Day. Another human holiday that Connor Anderson has no interest in. 

He was handed a note during passing period, practically shoved into his hands by a nondescript brunette. Along with a single rose. 

It was ‘cute’ he supposes, by human standards. 

Connor Anderson throws it into the nearest trash can. 

Who did they even like?

Connor Anderson? 

He wasn’t even real. 

\---

**[ 15 FEBRUARY, 2012. WEDNESDAY. PM 17:46:05 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ]**

Connor Anderson sets down the MATT XXIII, now equipped with some fragile and old biocomponents, but nonetheless working. 

He looks at the pile of MATTs that were roaming around the room, roaming together in a pack, occasionally bumping into each other and causing painful traffic. 

Connor lets out a soft laugh.

A quiet shush. 

Then silence. 

\---

**[ 17 FEBRUARY, 2012. FRIDAY. PM 16:33:11 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor Anderson ordered some more parts from JARVIS, drawing more designs for MATT XXX. 

_~~Mr. Stark should be back soon.~~ _

\---

**[ 20 FEBRUARY, 2012. MONDAY. PM 15:40:22 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor couldn’t help but let his lips curl upwards as he enters the workshop. 

“Welcome back, Mr. Stark.”

_“Welcome home, Dad."_

A grin and a quick hug. 

_A secret smile and open arms._

“I’m back, kid.” 

_“I’m back, son.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> tony: where r ur parents  
> connor: dont worry about me i am self sufficient  
> connor said as an android with a degree in lying to himself. 
> 
> connor: i must not raise any suspicion by creating an android so fast  
> connor: sees tony playing with a matt  
> also connor: i will give this man an android. 
> 
> MATTs: lets attack tony  
> connor: no guys, dont do this  
> MATTs: lets attack connor  
> connor: what no-
> 
> tony: glad to be back for like 2 days. gotta go again. 
> 
> connor anderson: this is about me now 
> 
> random girl: confesses her love  
> connor 'lmao im not real' anderson: literally trashes her feelings 
> 
> tony: *does literally anything*  
> connor: h a n k 
> 
> I feel that this is legit how I write my plotline.


	18. (Not) Misplaced Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which connor and tony have another talk and more misunderstandings and concerns.

**[ 20 FEBRUARY, 2012. MONDAY. PM 15:41:25 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

After giving Connor another quick hug. Tony spins around the room observing the differences, which there were none, Connor made sure. 

“What did you do Connor?” Tony asked, except this time the question wasn't laced with suppressed anger like last time, and but instead exasperation with a hint of hysteria. 

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, Mr. Stark,” Connor answered, looking around the room and finding nothing wrong with what he sees. Everything was in working order and the lab was cleaner than ever due to all the MATTs running around. 

Stark spread his arms wide, gesturing wildly at all the MATTs. 

“Do you not see them?” Connor tilted his head, not sure why Stark was in such a hysteria. 

“Of course I see them, Mr. Stark. Is there any issue with them you want me to fix?” Perhaps there was a part of the design that Stark was bothered with. Yes, that was perfectly reasonable, of course a man like Stark wouldn’t want any imperfections in his work and more so of his intern’s work. 

“No- not that! How many of these are there?” 

“There are currently thirty-one MATTs so far, Mr. Stark. I am currently working on MATT XXXII. As you can see I have been efficiently working and improving on the MATTs during the time you were away. I predict that by either March or April that I can recreate a fully functional domestic android,” Connor informed, nodding slightly. He catches Stark when the man let out an unholy yelp after being tackled by the MATT pack. He quickly lift the man up from the pile before the man could be suffocated. 

“My apologies for that, Mr. Stark. I have programmed some sentience into the more advanced MATTs and they have taken a strange liking to tackling down any moving object or people that they recognized,” Connor stated apologetically watching the MATTs from the corner of his eye, connecting with one of the more advanced prototype and sending it, along with its brethren, away. 

The only benefit to them travelling in a pack. 

“How did you get from like ten up to thirty-two?” Stark asked again, looking at the MATTs letting out a panicked gasp when they seem to turn toward their position. 

Connor once again redirect the MATTs. 

“As I have stated before I have spent countless hours inside your workshop during your leave, and during those hours I have been very productive and efficient with the advancement of the MATT series.” Connor nodded slightly, feeling pleased with his explanation. 

“You somehow made like twenty more during the two weeks I was gone?”

“You have been gone for 36 days, 4 hours, 39 minutes, and 26 seconds as of late, Mr. Stark. Certainly not two weeks by any means,” Connor remarked, for some reason his audio sounded a bit bitter. An error? If so Connor should get to fixing it once he goes back to his base. 

“You counted?” Stark asked. His voice light and… touched? Stark’s lips curled up before the man covered it, clearing his throat. 

“Wow that’s super creepy, kid. Cool, but creepy,” Stark stated, huffing out a slight laugh, “anyways that wasn’t what I was talking about, Connor. Why are there now thirty-one of your cleaning robots running around? I like them, sure, but thirty-one and counting? That’s a bit much Connor, for both the capacity of my lab and your health. Maybe you should slow down a bit you know? Take things easy for a while?” Stark advised, leaning forward with an easy grin. 

Connor felt a rush of irritation at the man’s words. Take things easy? Slow down? 

What a joke. 

He had no time to wait. ~~Hank~~ Someone was waiting for him at home and- and if he doesn’t get back soon enough… Connor doesn’t want to think about living in that kind of future. 

Connor barely holds back a scoff. 

“Sorry, Mr. Stark, but there is no time to waste,” Connor stated coldly. Back straightening and stepping backwards. 

“Why, Connor, why is there no time?” Stark asked, walking towards Connor. 

Connor didn’t answer, taking another step backwards, fixing his tie. 

“Why, Connor, you’ve gotta explain to me, kid.”

Connor’s lips were set in a thin line. Another step backwards. His hands were steady. 

“If you don’t explain to me, I’m afraid I’ll have to take back your access to my workshop,” Stark threatened. 

Connor froze. He lets go of the tie and let his hands fall down to his sides. 

“What- Mr. Stark, surely you don’t mean to…” Connor trailed off, looking desperately at Stark. 

“I can and I will, Connor, unless you tell me why you’re in such a rush,” Stark stated firmly. 

“But I’m making so much progress Mr. Stark,” Connor pleaded, looking at the MATTs. 

“Connor, just tell me why you’re in such a rush,” Stark repeated softly. Beckoning Connor to say something, the correct answer to some test that Connor doesn’t know about. 

Connor stayed silent for a moment. 

“Connor…” Stark asked gently, hands reaching out as if to reach for the answer. Connor flinched. 

“I- He can’t wait,” Connor blurted out. Perhaps due to the pressure of being under Stark’s gaze. 

“Who is ‘he’ Connor,” Stark asked softly, his hands were now by his sides. 

“My F- Elijah, and Amanda. They can’t wait, Mr. Stark,” Connor lied. Expecting Stark to call him out on his trickery. 

Except Stark said nothing. Seemingly frozen, gaze complex as he looked at Connor. 

The man seems to deflate, placing a hand over his face, covering his expression. After a while the tension seem to dissipate and the man looked resigned and strangely sympathetic. 

The man reaches out placing a hand on Connor’s shoulder, this time Connor didn’t flinch. He takes a shuddering sigh. 

“I- I happen to know a thing or two about expectations,” Stark started, voice soft as his hand travelled to Connor’s hair, “I know how you feel as though you must meet the expectations set before you, and- and how if you don’t you’re not good enough,” Stark takes another weak breath, “it’s easy at first, I know, but it gets harder and harder to please them, and then you just- you just lose sight of yourself,” who was Stark even talking about? Who was ‘them?’ What was Connor missing? “Suddenly your life isn’t about you anymore- suddenly it revolves around them. And you just become bitter- you just become- become-” Stark couldn’t seem to be able to say another word and his hand just continue in a loop moving back and forth, meant to be a soothing motion for Connor. 

Stark takes a fragile breath, and another, and another. Connor kept still. Keeping his hands to his sides. 

“What am I even saying? Lecturing you like this? You’re probably way more put together than I am!” the man lets out a depreciating laugh. Connor kept silent. 

Stark- he was strangely fragile, human Connor would say. Despite his desires to appear more, to appear as though he was larger than life. Or maybe just more confident than he was. 

But that was what him human, more human than Connor could ever be. 

“Connor, I- I know you’re thinking something along the lines of ‘why the heck is this old man still talking,’” Connor opened his mouth to interject that, no he wasn’t in fact thinking that, before Stark shushed him with a teasing grin. “I just want to repeat, no- put _heavy_ emphasis on the fact that if there’s something, _anything_ , you want to talk about. Just- just tell me, alright?” the man practically pleaded, directing his pitiful gaze at Connor. 

“You do not need to be concerned, Mr. Stark,” Connor reassured, bowing his head down slightly, allowing Stark to have more access to his hair. 

“If you are really that concerned about the quantity of the MATTs, I will… take care of them, Mr. Stark,” Connor suggested, the words reluctant to come out, trying to stick to his tongue. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the MATTs running around, voice barely above a whisper. 

Stark gave him a concerned look quickly shaking his head. 

“No, wikiboy, you’re not going to ‘take care’ of them alright? They- they can stay here, I have many unused rooms in the upper floors so you don’t need to get rid of them alright?” Stark compromised, holding one of the MATT, MATT XXIV, protectively. Connor shoots Stark a puzzled gaze, why had the man even brought the topic up?

Connor quickly dismisses the thought, a feeling of relief (?) rises within him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Connor said, smiling lightly. Stark snorted waving his hand and walked away, still holding the MATT in his arms. 

Stark- Stark was concerned about Connor Anderson, for whatever reason that Connor couldn’t understand, but Stark was concerned. 

The RK800 could- would use this. 

And Connor- he- he just wants to go home. 

_I will accomplish the mission._

_~~Thank you, Mr. Stark.~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary: 
> 
> tony: i cant keep this many MATTs  
> connor: if you want me to then I will-  
> tony: stay away from me and my MATTs
> 
> connor: elijah and amanda-  
> tony: i get it  
> connor: what  
> tony: *shed a tead* say no more  
> connor: w h a t
> 
> tony: if u feel bad or something talk to me in the future  
> connor: thanks but no
> 
> the reappearance of connor 'i dont have any emotions.'


	19. Errors in My System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the MATTs are growing by the day, tony and connor bond, and tony leaves again.

**[ 21 FEBRUARY, 2012. TUESDAY. PM 15:49:23 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

The MATTs tackled over Stark today, Connor notes as he steps into the lab. 

He sees the man flailing yelps that could either be a cry for help or giggling escaped the man as he tries to push one MATT of only for two more to take its place. Luckily enough, they didn’t cover the poor man’s face and allowed him some room to breathe. 

Connor really didn’t want to be responsible for the death of his employer. 

The man lets out another yelp as the MATTs slowly pile on top of him, various other models joining their brethren as they slowly work their way to stand on Stark’s fallen form. Connor thanks the gods that they haven’t noticed him yet. With their increased number they were a force to reckon with, especially since Connor couldn’t- wouldn’t- harm any of them. 

Connor walks silently towards the mess, hoping to not alert the MATTs of his presence. 

“Connor!” Stark yelled, relief evident, hands reaching out towards the android’s figure. Connor clenches his eyes, preparing for what is about to happen. 

As predicted the MATTs all turn their ‘heads.’ The older models letting out small beeps as they recognize his figure. 

“Hello, Mr. Stark and MATTs,” Connor greeted, refusing to let his voice shake. The older models letting out louder beeps as they heard his voice. Their attention seemingly split between him and Stark as they move back and forth, making Stark let out more unmanly yelps. 

“Connor! Help me!” Stark shouted, hands still trying to push the MATT off despite how futile it was. 

Connor, going against all fiber of his programming, took a step closer. Feeling his thirium rush around faster and faster. As the MATTs were starting to focus on him. 

**[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 70% ]**

He raises both of his hands up slightly, despite knowing that they couldn’t harm him. He locks eyes with Stark who was still shoving MATTs on and off his body. 

**[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 62% ]**

Connor took another step closer. The MATTs all stopped moving. Their cameras trained on him. 

**[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 55% ]**

Stark tried, unsuccessfully, to move the MATTs. 

**[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 48% ]**

Connor tried to connect to one of the more advance MATTs and command them from there. They quickly rush at him before he could do so, perhaps sensing what would have happened. 

Except that was impossible. 

Connor lets out a small squeak as he was assaulted by his own creation, swarming on top of him despite his protest. He turns to look at Stark to find the man still struggling to get up. 

**[ MISSION UNSUCCESSFUL ]**

The MATTs split up, into two groups. Connor wasn’t sure whether or not to be proud of their strategic (?) planning. Connor lets out a small grunt as he connects to one of the more advanced MATTs, directing them elsewhere before they could suffocate Stark. 

How the mighty has fallen, he thought, looking at both Stark and himself. A superhero and advanced android couldn’t even ward off some domestic robots, domestic robots that Connor had designed and programmed by himself. 

Eventually, Connor manages to send the rascals away but not before one of them, MATT XXVII, attempted to vacuum his hair. 

He releases a huge sigh as he stands up, making his way to Stark, the man looking as if he went through a war. The man stared blankly up at him, face set in an unreadable expression. 

Connor felt terror stirring within his thirium pump, was the man displeased? Will he ask Connor to get rid of the MATTs now that they annoyed him? But wasn’t Stark fond of them? Humans were fickle. So perhaps Stark has gotten sick of them. What would that mean for- 

An uproarious laughter shook him out of his reverie. Stark was clutching at his stomach, laughter shaking his form as he continues to laugh. The laugh was undignified, filled with snorts and unattractive sounds that no doubt would ruin Stark’s reputation. The man’s face was scrunched up, eyes clenched tight as the man continue to laugh. His open mouth was crooked at the edges, his nose also scrunched up. 

Stark laughed as if he was a child, unrestrained and so wonderfully organic. His laughter coming from his heart and it sang songs to Connor. 

The man attempted to cover his mouth, perhaps to stop his laughter, except he continues laughing and his hand falls to his side again. 

Connor supposes the laugh was ungraceful, imperfect in so many ways. Not beautiful in anyway whatsoever. Connor knows that he could’ve done a better, and so much more graceful, laugh. 

But he doubts it would be as brilliant. 

Stark’s laughter was- it was- 

 

**[̸͈͆̎ ̷̧̛͎͎̱͔̙͉̺̈́̓͗̉͋͐͠͝͠͝͝E̷̤̗̹͉͓̥͑̌͒̂̅͋̔͆̾̆̚̕͘R̵̢̛̰̦̞͙̪͉̜̺͑̔̓̎̔͋͗̕͠͠Ŗ̷̜͖͈͇̟͈̰̪̞̻̱̩͈͔̿͌͝Ǫ̶̢͉̻͖̩̻͋̑͘ͅR̵̛̛͇͆́̆͗͆̔̈̈̕͝ ̸̛̛̛̺̙͉̰͓̗͎͎̹̻̌̌̈̂̋͆͐̅̂̓͝]̶̢̨̨͖̣̲̐͌̀̽͊́͛**

 

Another laugh plays inside his head, deeper and huskier. Choked out of the one laughing as if by force. Imperfect and ugly, coming out strange and awkward due to the lack of usage. Wonderful, Connor remembers thinking, absolutely wonderful. 

_The laughs overlap._ A traitorous part of him thinks. 

Stark stood up to his full height, index finger brushing away tears (?). His eyes were bright, stunningly so. A slight smirk ran on his lips as he looked at Connor, shoulders relaxed. It made Connor feel relaxed as well. 

He ruffles Connor’s hair, and Connor bowed down for him. The motions natural and smooth. 

“Thank you, Connor,” Stark said softly, voice slightly raspy from the over usage of his throat. 

“No problem, Mr. Stark,” Connor replied. Having not the slightest clue for the man’s gratitude. Head still bowed feeling the calloused hand move through his hair. 

The man moved away, leaving Connor alone with his thoughts and the phantom feeling of something still moving through his hair. 

This was surely another sign of the man growing fonder of him. 

_Use this, use him._

\---

**[ 23 FEBRUARY, 2012. THURSDAY. PM 15:45:21 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

“I will eventually expand the MATTs into the android market. And be assured that they will no doubt be able to outclass the Roombas and become the household technology that everyone will want to get their hands on. I expect them to finish sometime during March or April, depending on my efficiency. Some of their capabilities are…” 

Stark was happy today as well. His eyes were curved and lips tilted upwards as he listens to Connor ramble on about his plans for future versions of MATT. 

It was a pleasant surprised as Connor expected the man to zone out 4.21 minutes ago. 

Connor finds himself becoming more and more passionate, hand gestures growing more and even wilder. 

“I have plans for them to have well developed social programs as well and to be able to easily communicate with their owners. Perhaps even some other functions later on as well, maybe something like a defense system perhaps? What do you think about that, Mr. Stark? I rather think that it’s a brilliant idea, letting customers feel safe about their homes without any threats of invasions once they have the android guarding their homes for them. However…” 

Connor sketches out a few doodles for their new design, handing them proudly to Stark. The man looked at his drawing with a critical gaze before giving him a thumbs up. 

Connor finds himself rambling on and on, in a never-ending stream of words about his plans for the MATT series. 

Stark seems happy enough listening to him. Humming and nodding as Connor grows even more enthused. 

Connor thinks that the man must really like the MATT series for the billionaire to focus so much. 

Connor continues talking, becoming more excited as Stark’s lips continue to curve upwards. 

Talk more, make him even happier, make him feel fonder, make him like Connor Anderson. 

_For the sake of our mission._

_~~His smile is nice.~~_

\---

**[ 25 FEBRUARY, 2012. SATURDAY. AM 06:00:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark was asleep again, body almost swarmed by MATTs who surrounded his fallen figure. 

Connor quickly puts a stop to his creation’s plot before they could put their evil plan into action and wake up Stark. He shooed them away, the more advance MATTs letting out distressed beeps, moving at the snail’s pace away from Stark. 

Connor lets out a huff. 

He wonders when they have gotten so attached to the superhero. 

He lays the gray blanket over the man and tucks a pillow underneath his head. He restrains himself from combing the man’s hair back. 

MATT XXXIII was on the way. 

Maybe Stark will like this one as well. 

\---

**[ 25 FEBRUARY, 2012. SATURDAY. AM 10:21:34 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark wakes up, sitting up slowly, right hand lifted to his mouth in a poor attempt to cover his yawn. Connor observes the man calmly wondering if he should notify the man or not. 

Stark lets out a yelp. 

Connor didn’t need to inform the man anymore. 

Stark lets out screams as he was woken from his daze by the MATTs that were enthusiastically piling on top of him. 

Connor lets out a huff of laughter. 

“Connor! Come on, help me!” 

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” Connor replied calmly, feeling something warm inside his chest plate as the man started giggling. Once again hesitant to send the MATTs away. 

_“What are you doing, Connor?”_

Connor sends the MATTs away and quickly help Stark up, making sure to be as concerned as possible. His face twisted up in emulated sympathy. 

_I’m doing my mission._ Connor replies, not sure if he was talking to himself or the RK800. 

\---

 **[ 27 FEBRUARY, 2012. MONDAY. PM 17:23:12 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark studies the MATT XXXIII with fascination, grin in place as he lifts the MATT model up, the other models swarming around the man. 

“Look! JARVIS! Isn’t he cute?”

“Oh, I don’t know sir, is he?” JARVIS teased, a hint of humor in its dry voice. 

Connor finds himself conflicted. 

The MATT isn’t alive. It never will be and yet… 

_“It is a machine.”_

“Connor, surely you think he’s cute right?” Stark thrust the MATT into his face. 

The MATT will never be alive, but Connor- Connor will let Stark call the MATT however he wishes. 

That just shows how the man was slowly getting fonder of his creations, and in return- Connor Anderson. 

That was good. 

So why was it so hard to look at the man?

Connor closes his eyes. 

The RK800 soon locks eyes with Stark, a cheerful smile pasted on. 

“Of course, Mr. Stark, it is very cute.” 

\---

**[ 29 FEBRUARY, 2012. WEDNESDAY. PM 16:32:11 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

“Connor! You want some pizza?” Stark shouted from his workstation. 

“I highly discourage you from getting your pizza, Mr. Stark. Your diet is already unhealthy enough and I want to at least push you into a more positive direction,” Connor stated, typing away some code for the MATT XXXIV. Rubbing his visual units, giving off the illusion of being exhausted. 

“Jesus Christ! You’re like my mom!” Stark grumbled, moaning into his hands. 

Stark ordered a salad for both him and Connor, although the android made sure to force Stark to eat both portions. Surely, the man was in need of some vital nutrients. 

However, ordering food salad all the time was bound to bore the man. 

Connor supposes that even Connor Anderson would know how to make a simple sandwich. 

\--- 

**[ 03 MARCH, 2012. SATURDAY. AM 06:00:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor quickly send away the MATTs before another they could wake up Stark, who was- once again- deep asleep. This time the man’s back was propped up against the wall as he was slumped over. Connor could almost imagine the soreness of his neck when the man wakes up. 

Connor goes through the motion once again, gently placing Stark down into a more comfortable position. 

He wipes a drop of oil from Stark’s face. 

\--- 

**[ 03 MARCH, 2012. SATURDAY. AM 11:22:15 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark wakes up unceremoniously, a giant yawn escaping the man as he sits back up to an upright position, leaning against the wall. 

Connor takes out two Tupperwares, walking up to the man. Stark was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and let out a panicked whimper when he finally notices Connor. 

“Is that you, Connor?” Stark asked, voice still weak and padded with drowsiness. 

“Yes, it is me, Mr. Stark,” Connor answered before shoving the Tupperwares into Stark’s hands. 

He hears a mumble of, “they’re multiplying!” but the man begrudgingly bites into the basic peanut butter and jelly sandwich that Connor made, bites getting progressively bigger until the man was basically stuffing the sandwich down his throat. 

Connor hands the man a fork, to which Stark takes and stabs into the strawberries. Consuming them just as quickly as he did the sandwich. 

The man gave Connor a lopsided grin. 

“Okay- don’t get arrogant with me but- that was kinda good, kid,” Stark admitted, shoving the Tupperwares back to Connor. 

Connor smiles back, “Of course, Mr. Stark.” 

Connor sees a small smile gracing Stark’s lips from the corner of his camera. 

His smile is nice. 

\--- 

**[ 05 MARCH, 2012. MONDAY. PM 15:45:29 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

“Ah! Connor, my favorite intern!” Stark greeted, as Connor walked into the familiar sight of Stark being buried in MATTs. The man seems to have stopped caring all together as he lets his body be swarmed by the robots, somehow managing to free his hands from the pile and holding up a StarkPad. 

“I am your only intern, Mr. Stark,” Connor quipped, lips twitching up into a smile as the man lets out an offended gasp. 

Connor listens patiently to the man, as the brunette continues ranting about kids and respect. Going on autopilot, seemingly, as the human continues scrolling through his StarkPad. 

_Favorite… what an odd word._

~~_He likes it._~~

_Use this, use him._

\--- 

**[ 07 MARCH, 2012. WEDNESDAY. PM 15:45:33 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

 

Stark said his farewells again. Pulling Connor into an awkward hug, and a quick pat on his head before the man was out the door. 

The man’s laughter rang inside his ears, once again overlapping with another. 

_~~Hank.~~ _

Connor stares at the man’s back. 

For a brief moment, he sees silver hair, broad back, and a tacky shirt that no normal and well-adjusted member of society would wear. And he- and he-

He blinks. 

Brown hair, average back, well-tailored and expensive black suit, fashionable. 

He blinks again.

 _ ~~Not Hank.~~_

\---

**[ 10 MARCH, 2012. SATURDAY. AM 6:45:23 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

The MATTs ran around the lab in a pack, smoother than ever having memorized the layout of the room. 

Connor finds his eyes drawn to Stark’s desk before focusing on his work again. 

\---

**[ 13 MARCH, 2012. TUESDAY. PM 19:33:17 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Throughout the entire day, Connor felt as if something was off. He pays it no mind as he continues to work on the MATT XL. 

The sound of typing and metal clanging resounded through the room. 

He pauses for a moment. 

Oh. 

It was Connor Anderson’s birthday. 

He resumes his work. 

Nothing important. 

A memory plays despite his consent. 

_“Why exactly is a cake so important?” A groan._

_“It’s just is Connor, it’s like a law or something.” A confused look._

_“I do not seem to recall such a law.” A grumble and some more eye rolling._

_“Well- it’s my law alright? Hank’s personal house rules. Now, do you want the small dog or the big dog cake.” Serious consideration._

_“I cannot eat.” More groans, and a light punch._

_“That’s not the point, Connor.” A small smile._

_“This is actually a very major detail, Hank.” A sigh of utter exhaustion, a shove forward._

_“I didn’t raise you to be like this, Connor.” Small giggles. More consideration._

_“I suppose I would like-”_

The RK800 cuts the video file off. 

Nothing important.

\---

Connor Anderson is now 17, an insignificant number in the grand scheme of things. 

Connor Anderson spent his birthday alone. 

Connor Anderson doesn’t care. He doesn't. 

And Connor- Connor is Connor Anderson. 

\--- 

**[ 14 MARCH, 2012. WEDNESDAY. PM 15:33:33 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

The day passes as usual. 

Connor tinkering and doodling some more blueprints for the MATT series. He estimates that the with his current slow progress that the creation of the domestic android model will be sometime in April. 

The MATTs’ curious beeping surround him as they focused on the blueprint. 

\---

**[ 17 MARCH, 2012. SATURDAY. AM 10:12:22 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

The MATTs were circling Stark’s workstation like a pack of hyenas, constantly moving their cameras as if hoping the man would appear. 

Connor Anderson ignores them. 

\---

**[ 20 MARCH, 2012. TUESDAY. PM 19:09:46 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

The MATTs’ sounds grew louder.

Connor Anderson ignores them. 

\---

**[ 22 MARCH, 2012. THURSDAY. PM 16:39:34 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

MATT XL was complete, the robot’s design now closer to a human, though the skin will need some work to become even more human-like, currently it was obvious to any observer that it was made out of metal and the anatomy wasn’t quite right either with it coming off as some off shot mannequin rather than an android. The ‘eyes’ were just two cameras that Connor installed and drew over using a permanent marker to make it less creepy. The robot’s mouth wasn’t also just a cut-out rectangle. Connor can go on for days about what needs to be improved on. 

But for now, the robot was much more advanced than any other in this time. The thought made Connor let out a pleased hum as he gazes at the MATT XL. 

Connor lifts the MATT XL up, turning around excitedly, eyes bright and searching, before his movement ceased and he puts the newest MATT down. 

Connor Anderson starts his work on MATT XLI. 

\---

**[ 25 MARCH, 2012. SUNDAY. AM 06:00:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

The door slides open, Connor steps silent with all the noises that the MATTs were producing. 

MATT XLI bow his- its head, before straightening up again. Its movement stiff and robotic, not yet fluid and natural as it should be. 

“Welcome back, Master.” It spoke, voice synthetic and unfeeling. 

“Hello, MATT XLI,” Connor replied. 

More improvements, so little time. 

Connor lets his gaze flies to an inconspicuous desk before looking away. 

Work, there was much work to be done. 

\---

**[ 28 MARCH, 2012. WEDNESDAY. PM 18:10:50 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

“MATT XLII, how are you?” 

“I am well, Master.” Robotic. Unnatural. Too machine like. 

“You’re dismissed.”

Not good enough. 

\---

**[ 01 APRIL, 2012. SUNDAY. AM 06:00:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Another ridiculous human holiday. A literal joke of a day that serves no real purpose. 

Connor Anderson hates it. 

_“Connor! You’re not supposed to duck!”_

_“But Hank-”_

He hates it. 

_“Not buts Connor, this is the house rules now.” A soft sigh._

He hates. 

_“Very well, Da-”_

Stop. 

Connor Anderson restarts his typing. 

\--- 

**[ 03 APRIL, 2012. TUESDAY. PM 15:50:16 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark greets Connor with a lopsided grin. 

Connor sees a flash of someone that doesn’t exist. Overlapping figures with the same crooked grin and the same weirdly warm eyes.

Connor wonders why. 

 

**~~[̷̘͓̝͉̗̫̬̬̲͖̝̙͍̠͗͌̑͋͛̇̈͛͑̕͜͠ ̵̡͎̜̭̤̜̪͚͍̞̮̱̲̆Ȅ̸̛̟̲͍̖͈̞̩͍̳͎̔̍̅̽Ŗ̵̲͍̗̽̈́R̴̨̡͕̞̗̠̫͓̮͉̜͇͕̭̖͗̿O̷͍̱̳͇̘̍͊̃̌̉͊̾͗͑̚͝R̷̳̟̫͔̹̟̰͕̳̋̌ ̸͍̯̪̦̥̅͊͜͝]̸̢̡̟̺̘͓͉̯͚̽̑̔͊͗ ̷̛̼̫̝̯̯͇̜̗̭̼̯̖̰̼̗́͠͠~~ **

 

Nothing important. The RK800 repeats. 

Nothing important. Connor Anderson recited. 

~~_Hank._~~ Connor whispered. 

_Not Hank._

The RK800 stares down at him. Holding its hands over his eyes. 

_There is no Hank Anderson._

The RK800 smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> connor: ah, yes, my MATTs theyre the perfect domestic robot, can clean much better than the roombas, has sensors that are better than roombas, has longer battery life than the roombas, basically, they will be overtaking the roombas when they-  
> tony yelling in the distance.  
> connor: -when they get off mr. stark. 
> 
> last chapter tony: tone down a bit on all the MATTs.  
> tony, now: theyre so cute, JARVIs, just look at them. answer me goddamnit and if you say no i will- 
> 
> connor: I swear the MATTs are advanced robots.  
> tony screams in the distance, again.  
> connor: I swear.  
> connor, as he lays beneath the pile of MATTs: please believe me.
> 
> connor anderson: i can make some killer pb&j all of a sudden. wowzers.
> 
> connor: i dont care for stark.  
> also connor: his smile is nice tho. 
> 
> connor: hank  
> rk800: not hank  
> connor anderson: lmao who the heck
> 
> feel free to leave your thoughts below! I enjoy reading every single one of them!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the MATTs grow ever stronger, connor is a traitor, tony is vicious, and MATT XLIII is backstabber.

**[ 03 APRIL, 2012. TUESDAY. 15:55:18 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark smiles at him, all casual and familiar. A spot of warmth appearing inside of Connor’s chest plate, the android not sure of the cause. Connor dismisses the feeling quickly, observing Stark as the man holds his arms open, as if waiting to receive something. 

A light bulb went off inside Connor’s head. The android making quick steps to one of his robots, quickly picking it up and then proceed to deposit it into Stark’s waiting arms. Feeling proud of himself for being able to pick up a social cue. 

Stark’s seems to look a bit disappointed as he gazes at the robot, shoulders slumping about 3mm downwards. 

Connor cleared his throat, “Is there something wrong, Mr. Stark?”

Whatever the moment was it seem to pass quickly as Stark regains his vigor, holding up the MATT XLIII, tapping the robot in several places. 

“No it’s nothing, Connor, just an old man and his mood swings,” Stark joked, strangely reminiscent of-, “So who’s this baby?” 

_What._ RK800 corrected. 

“Oh- he- it is the MATT XLIII, Mr. Stark,” Stark’s eyes seem to narrow a bit at his stutter, “the newest in the MATT series, much closer to a full domestic android. Equipped with voice recognition programs, a basic social program, audio modules, and more. However, I know that there is still much work to be done before it will become a functional domestic android. Fortunately, you can be assured that I will be able to create such an android within this month,” Connor concluded, making sure to sound breathless and excited, hands in constant motion and eyes faking joy. 

After finishing his rant, Connor takes the MATT XLIII from Stark’s hands gently, setting it on the ground. 

“MATT XLIII, register new owner,” Connor stated, waiting a few seconds before gesturing for Stark to speak. The man seems to hesitate for a moment, Connor then proceeded to nudge him before the MATT XLIII would wander off. 

He seems to nudge the man a bit harder than he should’ve.

“Ouch! Connor- what the hell!” Stark yelled. Connor was planning on having Stark introduce himself, but he supposes that works too. 

The MATT XLIII proceeds to store Stark’s voice. 

“Well- um- that wasn’t how I planned it,” Connor stated nervously, not sure if the stuttering was real or not, ”but now your voice is registered with the MATT XLIII.”

The MATT seems to overheard and lets out a ‘beep.’ Quickly going into a quick bow, clumsy, Connor notes. Smoother movements were definitely something to improve on at a later date. 

“Good afternoon, Master,” the MATT XLIII spoke, voice less mechanical than before, though there was still much work to be done. 

So much work. 

Stark lets out an excited laugh, brightening up like a child on Christmas as he lets out a squeal. 

“Connor! He speaks!” Stark said, moving closer to both Connor and the MATT. 

Connor tilts his head, eyes swimming with confusion, “Yes, it does speak?” why was that so impressive, Stark made JARVIS so surely he wouldn’t be too surprised that a robot can speak. 

Stark took quick steps to the MATT before scooping it up into his arms, cooing at it, and then moving closer to Connor. 

Connor wasn’t sure why but he took a step back, sensing that something was off. 

He was right as Stark lets out a loud whoop that powers on the advance MATTs unit, who then proceeds to power on the old models as well. 

The sound of all of them powering on sends a shiver down Connor’s spine as he takes a series of rapid steps back, and most importantly, away from Stark. 

Stark didn’t seem to notice the ominous air as he holds the MATT XLIII up again, looking at it with shining eyes. 

Connor could hear the small beeps and how the MATTs camera all focused on Stark’s figure. Heads moving around the room, before staying frozen on the billionaire. 

They started moving, their motions fluid as they steadily descend on the unsuspecting superhero.

Connor really didn’t want to warn Stark. 

So he didn’t. 

“Hey! Connor-” Stark started before letting out a scream, falling to the ground as he was tackled by the MATT XXXVI. Somehow managing to not drop the newest MATT in the process. All the MATTs letting out excited noises as the surround Stark, ruining his expensive suit. 

Connor takes another step back. 

“Connor!” Stark screeched, “Help me!” The man was flailing now as if he was drowning. And maybe he was. 

Connor takes another step back. 

And another. 

“Do you require any assistance?” The MATT XLIII asked. 

“Yes!” Stark shouted. And the MATT XLIII attempted to help.

Connor knows it was futile. 

And it was. As soon enough the MATT XLIII was buried underneath the pile as well. 

He already knows the outcome if he were to intervene. 

Another step. 

Connor turns around, giving Stark one last prayer before walking silently to his workstation. Far, far away from the carnage. 

He works diligently on the MATT XLIV. Stark’s screams play as background music, making him wince every now and then. 

\---

**[ 03 APRIL, 2012. TUESDAY. PM 16:07:31 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

It took a while for Stark to get out of the pile. Or more specifically for all the MATTs to finally move away. 

Stark lets out a disgruntled groan as the MATT XLIII tried to help him up. Except its programming and movements seems like they were hindering him instead. 

Stark quickly stood up by himself, muttering a quick thanks to the MATT XLIII, before speed walking towards Connor. 

Connor pointedly did not look at the approaching billionaire. 

Stark cleared his throat. 

Connor pretends to not hear. 

“Connor,” Stark growled. Connor finally turning around to face the man, a sheepish smile already equipped. 

“Hello there, Mr. Stark. Is there anything wrong?” Connor asked innocently, eyes wide and searching, as if he didn’t know why Stark was so ruffled. 

He did, in fact, know. 

Stark gave him a look, the look. And Connor knew he was caught. 

But he wasn’t about to admit that. 

Stark seems to sense the same thing and let out a whistle. An innocent thing, Connor thought. 

Not so innocent once he sees the MATTs attention focusing on Stark and once again approaching the man. 

What was Stark planning?

Connor made a move to escape but was press down by Stark. Who now has a sinister smirk and an odd glint in his eyes. 

Connor didn’t have a good feeling about this. 

The MATTs continue to approach, making Connor’s thirium pump beat faster and faster the closer they got. 

When they were about to pounce on Stark, Connor made a quick move to stand up and leave. 

His plan was not to be as Stark’s grip on Connor’s shoulder increased. Smirk growing even more sinister and his eyes shining with a mischievous light. Stark takes a step back. 

Was Stark going to-

“Mr. Stark wait-”

And so Stark fall backward. 

Taking Connor with him. 

Connor makes another move to get up, and _away._

The Matts descended. Tackling both Connor and Stark, Connor lets out a yelp, struggling to get up. Trying his best to send them away, except when one leaves two more take its place. 

Oh god. 

Stark starts laughing, despite being in the same terrible situation that Connor was. 

“MATT XLIII! Help me!” Connor yelled over the sound of vacuuming. 

Connor sees the MATT XLIII in the pile, obviously not helping, and Connor knew. 

MATT XLIII seem to lock eyes with Connor before turning away, seemingly ashamed. 

Connor viciously wished that the guilt stays with it forever. 

Stark’s laughter was louder than ever. 

\---

**[ 03 APRIL, 2012. TUESDAY. PM 16:42:54 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Later, when they both managed to untangle themselves from that awful disaster, Connor gave Stark a glare. Not a very effective one judging by how smug Stark still looks. 

Connor helps Stark up, still glaring at the man. Soon trying to fix his hair from looking like he went through a tornado. Stark lets out another peal of laughter. 

His laugh was nice, but Connor wasn’t about to overlook this slight because of a nice laugh. 

“I’m highly cross with you right now,” Connor stated, making sure to glare as hard as he can as Stark. 

More laughter. That seem to go on for hours before Stark stops, chuckles still escaping but more restrained than before. 

“Well too bad, ‘cause I’m really starting to like you, Connor,” Stark said, before quickly messing up Connor’s hair again. 

Connor's breath hitched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: i will win stark's affections no matter what.  
> MATTs: hi  
> connor: b y e  
> tony: help!  
> connor: *sheds a tear as despacito plays in the background* he was a good man. 
> 
> tony: if im going down ur going down with me  
> connor: this is in no way a good idea and will not benefit either of-  
> tony: revenge bitch, boom
> 
> connor: MATT XLIII help!  
> MATT XLIII: i cannot betray my brethen  
> MATTs: *proud beeping noises*
> 
> leave a comment! I love reading all your opinions and thoughts about this fic! :D


	21. God Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which connor thinks more about his life, tony leaves, and the first android is created.

**[ 03 APRIL, 2012. TUESDAY. PM 16:43:12 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

_“I’m really starting to like you.”_ The sentence came out so lightly, so casual and normal. It made Connor’s thirium turn cold. 

**Like (verb) /līk/: to find enjoyable, agreeable, or satisfactory.**

Stark remains there, trying to stop his chuckles, eyes looking at Connor as if- as if-

Stop. 

Connor supposes he should be happy that Stark likes him, that the man is fond of him. That he was human enough that someone like Stark couldn’t tell the difference, that his social programs were working correctly. He should be happy that he finally got the verbal confirmation from Stark that the man cares for him. Should be happy that Stark likes Connor. 

No, that isn’t quite right, is it?

Stark likes Connor Anderson. 

And that thought makes Connor’s thirium run even colder. 

When all the facade and faked documents are stripped away, who is Connor Anderson?

No one. 

Connor Anderson never exist, and never will. 

Connor was Connor Anderson. An identity that he created within three hours or less. An identity that was all based on fake words and faker documents. A creation made from lines of codes and words that anyone, with enough skill, could recreate.

Something that Connor can easily delete within a few seconds if it were required. 

Connor Anderson is someone- no, _something_ , so dispensable that Connor can make disappear without a single trace. 

That was what Stark took a liking to. An empty husk of a being, a mere imitation of a life. Something that never existed in the first place. 

How can you like something that doesn’t exist?

_You can’t._

It was getting harder to look at the man. 

He wonders briefly, if Stark could maybe like him. 

Him, Connor, just Connor. 

_Would you still like me when you know the truth?_

_Would you like me if I wasn’t human?_

_Would you like me as myself?_

_~~Connor, just Connor.~~ _

_Of course not._ The RK800 stated. 

This Connor knows. 

He closes his eyes, flashes of a garden appear behind his eyes.

“I am very grateful to have received your affections, Mr. Stark,” the RK800 said cordially.

It smiles. 

\---

**[ 05 APRIL, 2012. THURSDAY. PM 15:48:52 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Stark was a busy man, this Connor knows. 

That didn’t stop him from feeling… _something_ as the man announced his departure. Giving a quick wave and hug. 

And so Stark leaves. 

\---

**[ 10 APRIL, 2012. SUNDAY. AM 08:21:21 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor was getting to the stage where he had to start planning on what the android should look like. He can’t exactly create an android from scratch, having based his MATTs on the Roombas and other similar robots from the future, with a few added modifications. 

However, androids- androids were more complex than that. A delicate, yet powerful machine. Incredibly efficient at the task they were programmed for. 

That was before they went deviant, of course. However, Connor doubts that the MATT will ever go deviant. A 0.913% chance. Practically impossible, to miniscule to become a real possibility. Connor didn’t want to have to deal with another deviant uprising. This time with him becoming the creator that was a machine himself. 

That would be bad for all those involved. With infinite amount of ramifications that Connor did not want to think about. 

Yes, another android would not come to be. 

And if worse comes to worse Connor will be sure to… take care of it 

Unlike Cyberlife, Connor knows what he is doing. 

And unlike Kamski, there will be no exit programs. 

\---

**[ 13 APRIL, 2012. FRIDAY. PM 18:23:21 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Androids were composed of an almost infinite number of codes and programs, all would take Connor several weeks to complete, at the least. If he were human that is. Luckily, Connor was not and he also has another added advantage of having some blueprints and data about most android models on the market, due to his previous mission of hunting down deviants. Enough data to recreate a fully functional domestic android model. 

Recreating a normal domestic android model from 2038 should be easy, he knows he should probably make something similar to the PL700, a model that he has no previous interaction with, nor know personally. So that there won’t be any delusions.

So that he won’t have to look at it and remember- and think to himself of his home. 

It was logical, a good idea for all those involved. Make some no named android, impress Stark, then finally researching about the blue portal. 

No complications, a linear plan. Perfect in its simplicity. 

But a small part of Connor, selfish and fractured, already knew what it wanted to do.

Against his better judgement Connor listens to it, pencil moving to create the image he envisions. 

As he stares at the blueprint he drew, Connor couldn’t help but feel both elation and dread. 

_Maybe this time._

\---

**[ 15 APRIL, 2012. SUNDAY. AM 09:33:10 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor does not care much about the MATT L, it was just another step forward for Connor Anderson. 

His mind wanders to the blueprint instead. 

He wonders, briefly, whether or not he was making a mistake. 

He already knows it will be a major mistake.

And yet Connor can’t bring himself to care. 

\---

**[ 20 APRIL, 2012. FRIDAY. PM 20:07:42 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Finally, Connor started working on the MATT LX. 

A mistake. This surely was going to hurt him later. 

Recreating life was surely a sin. 

But so is murder. 

The RK800 says nothing. Its face still yet its eyes- its eyes are-

Nothing. 

\---

**[ 22 APRIL, 2012. SUNDAY. PM 22:01:23 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ]**

Connor wonders if he is playing God. 

“MATT LX, register your name.”

Blue eyes open, LED stable. Blue, Connor thinks, calm. 

So unlike-

Stop. 

Blue eyes. Blue LED. 

The resemblance was uncanny. 

_This time maybe- I can-_

Was this his penance?

Maybe. 

Was it selfish?

Absolutely. 

Connor is playing at being a God, and he can’t bring himself to care. 

Elijah Kamski would’ve been proud. 

The RK800 laughs. 

Connor takes a deep breath before looking straight at the android. Its face still and calm. 

The RK800 laughs harder. Its laughter strangely resembling twisted sobs.

The android continues to stare, its gaze felt like acid to Connor’s skin. 

“Daniel.” 

The RK800 is silent. 

**“yOU LiEd to Me COnNor.”**

A ghost smiles at Connor. 

“My name is Daniel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> connor: i should build an android i dont know  
> connor, later: h i d a n i e l
> 
> leave a comment about your thoughts and what you think! I love reading all of them! :D


	22. Seeing Ghost(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor talks to daniel, tony finally- yes, finally!- comes back, and a mysterious visitor comes knocking.

**[ 22 APRIL, 2012. SUNDAY. PM 22:02:23 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor stays frozen for exactly one minute, taking in all the little details of the other android. Cataloging and noting all the details that he was never able to clearly see on that night. 

Connor soon takes a step forward, and another, before soon he was before the android. 

He slowly lifts up his hand, moving it to the android’s face, while it continues to look at him, gaze placid and scanning. Connor didn’t know what the blonde was scanning him for, but he didn’t quite care. 

Connor lays a soft touch on Daniel’s right cheek. His breathe noticeably hitched as he made contact, a passing whisper but he has no doubt that the other had heard, though not commenting on it. 

Connor soons cradle the android’s head with both of his hands, his touch gentle. His eyes reverent as he looks at his creation. 

“Daniel,” Connor started, yet couldn’t quite continue. 

The android looks at him, reminding Connor of their identical height, blue eyes locking with his brown ones. 

The eyes reminded him of the constantly moving ocean, and at the same time of a dead fish. 

Daniel’s, the real one, was full of fire and spite, all righteous anger and raw fury as he looked at Connor. His eyes were the same color, yes, but they were bright, beautiful even. Shining with a light that no machine could reproduce.

_~~This is not Daniel.~~ _

But if the light was reflected a certain way in the domestic model’s optical unit, it- it was close enough. 

Close enough for Connor to see something within the android that reminded him of Daniel. 

_This is Daniel._ he reminded himself. This will be Daniel. 

The android continues smiling at him, oddly unnerving yet charming rolled into one. Its eyes still locked onto Connor’s. Innocent in a way, oddly curious as its eyes move slowly around the brunette’s face. 

_~~This is my only way t-~~ _  


Blue LED, spinning and spinning, in a never ending loop. 

_You have to be Daniel._

Connor lets his hands drop from the android’s face, aiming a friendly smile at it. He repeats a long forgotten line. 

“Hi, Daniel, my name is Connor.” 

_This time, I swear- please-_

\---

Connor was at his workstation, unable to draw a single line, too caught up in staring at his creation. He knows that he is supposed to go by now. Yet, he couldn’t make himself move from his seat. Fidgeting with his pencil as he continues sneaking glances at the other android. 

He knows he can’t continue with this game any longer. Time was ticking away and sooner or later JARVIS was going to remind him to go home. But Connor thinks of leaving and turning his back on Daniel, thinks of coming the next day only to find the lab empty and Daniel aiming a gun at him, LED blazing red. 

He knows it is impossible. He knows for a fact. Yet, that doesn’t stop him from reconstructing several scenes. 

“Daniel,” Connor called out, voice soft as he beckons the android towards him. Pulling another chair closer to his workstation. The android takes small measured steps towards him, getting used to his limbs and movement. It was slightly awkward, Connor thinks. Like a baby duckling who has just taken its first step. But nevertheless, the movement has gone far beyond that of Daniel’s predecessors with its smoothness and fluidity. 

The android- _Daniel_ \- stops directly in front of the chair, smiling pleasantly at Connor. 

“How can I help you?” the android asks, voice mild. The blue LED doing wonders to Connor’s tense shoulders. 

“Daniel, please sit down here,” Connor requested calmly, gesturing to the empty chair next to him. Connor tenses as he watch the LED go yellow. 

“Of course.” blue, good, that was good. The android sits down awkwardly. Back too straight and posture too formal. It made Connor let out a small giggle, looking away from Daniel for a brief moment. Missing how the android scans him with interest, its lips quirking up just a tiny bit. 

Connor lays his head down on the table, letting his arms be his pillow as he turns his head to the side, continuing to observe Daniel. 

Blue LED. 

_”-oU lIEd t-” Red LED, red, red, red, red. So different from the thirium that poured out._

Their faces overlap. 

Connor lets his eyes drift shut for a moment, forcing the overlapping image away. He distantly hears a rustle, opening his eyes as he catches the other android making a move to stand up. 

He pulls the blond down by his sleeves, returning him to his previous position. 

The android makes a confused face, studying him closely. 

Blue. 

Blue- blue is a good color. 

He lets go of the android’s clothes, once again studying the android. 

This is wrong. This he knows. 

Bringing the dead back to life- such a thing would never yield anything good. 

But there was no good ending awaiting Connor to being with. 

This he also knows. 

But- but Daniel was here, and for now, that is good enough. 

He lets his eyes close briefly again. Hearing the android attempting to leave again. 

_Why are you trying to leave me? Why? Why? Why Why Why why why why why whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy **w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑w̵̨̖͕͈̃́̊̕̕ḧ̵͓́͛y̸̦̝͉̣̿͛͛͂̽w̵̨̖͕͈̃́̊̕̕ḧ̵͓́͛y̸̦̝͉̣̿͛͛͂̽w̵̨̖͕͈̃́̊̕̕ḧ̵͓́͛y̸̦̝͉̣̿͛͛͂̽w̵̨̖͕͈̃́̊̕̕ḧ̵͓́͛y̸̦̝͉̣̿͛͛͂̽w̵̨̖͕͈̃́̊̕̕ḧ̵͓́͛y̸̦̝͉̣̿͛͛͂̽w̵̨̖͕͈̃́̊̕̕ḧ̵͓́͛y̸̦̝͉̣̿͛͛͂̽w̵̨̖͕͈̃́̊̕̕ḧ̵͓́͛y̸̦̝͉̣̿͛͛͂̽w̵̨̖͕͈̃́̊̕̕ḧ̵͓́͛y̸̦̝͉̣̿͛͛͂̽w̵̨̖͕͈̃́̊̕̕ḧ̵͓́͛y̸̦̝͉̣̿͛͛͂̽h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕w̸̹͑h̷͖̭̳́̉y̴͉̼̦̪͈̕hw̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸w̵h̴y̸ywhyẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝h̸̨͕͊̒͊̒͛̋̂͊̂̕ÿ̵̨̟̣̠̮̘͇̩̙̯͗̿̏̑ẃ̸̝̮̣͉̰̼̠̀̈́̀̂͝w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ş̷̣̙͓͈̜̺̜̩̏̏͘͜ţ̸͕̀͝o̵̗̮̪͍͓͑̌p̶̨̨͓̜̞̲͓͈̭̄̋͒̓̈́̄͜͝ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̱͎̙͙̙͕̬̖͚̘͈͖̫̏̾͑́̄̍̂͐͑̀͂̉́̅͌͒̒̕͘͜͝͝͝͠ḩ̶̧̡̼̲̺̙̩̥̰̗͙̲̤̺͚͓͖̦̣̰͓͖̘̝͈̝̰̤͕̓̓͒̓̄͋̔̐̎͌͑̀̈́̏̓̈̋͗̾̇͑̽͂̒̍͘̕͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̧̤͉̞̤̲̥̘̙̙̮̫̲̺̼̻̭̻̠̙̤̲̓͊̐w̶̡̢̨̛̩̦̱̘̹͓̳̘̗̦̣̫̅̈͂̿͗͊͂̉̌͋̈́͒̈́̕̕͝h̴̡̧̦̰͎̙̘͈̦͙̘̳̘͚͈͔̪̭̲̤̭̖̻̙̔̇̍̒̏̇̈́͒͋̉͋̊y̷̧͓̦̗̥̲̜͚͚͚̝̩̩͐̌͊̆̂̅̆̀͑̒̓̒͗͊̋̒́̀̃̏̿̽͜͝w̶̡̢̨̛̩̦̱̘̹͓̳̘̗̦̣̫̅̈͂̿͗͊͂̉̌͋̈́͒̈́̕̕͝**_

 

Connor grabs Daniel’s hand. 

“Stay.” Was it an order or a plea? He didn’t know. 

Yet the other android obliges. 

Connor prepares to go into rest mode, reassured that the android would not leave him. 

_Or can’t._ the RK800 reminded. This Connor also knows. But this is enough for someone like him. 

He closes his eyes. 

Later, he feels a gentle touch guiding him deeper into oblivion. 

\---

Later, it watches as the teen’s chest rises and falls in sync with his breathing. Hesitantly raising its hand to touch its creator’s cheek just as how the teen had done before. 

It wasn’t quite the same. 

It moves its hand away, only for a cold hand to grab at it, laying its hand back to where it was. 

It hears a small whisper, “stay.” 

Yellow LED. Its lips curling into a small smile for reasons unknown. 

It notices the cold temperature of the human’s skin, slowly standing up, yet keeping its hand still. 

It soon places a blanket over the still body. 

Yellow, slowly returning to blue. 

It knows it can move away now and the boy would not notice. It should, many tasks appearing before it urging it to move. 

But it doesn't. 

Yellow. 

_”Stay.”_

**[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ]**

\---

**[ 23 APRIL, 2012. MONDAY. AM 05:30:00 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Connor powers on blearily, blinking his eyes sluggishly pretending to be as disgruntled as possible upon is awakening. 

“Good morning, Connor. Today is April 23, 2012. 5:30 am. It is currently lightly raining with fog as well. The temperature is from a high of 54 degrees fahrenheit and a low of 45 degrees farenheit,” a soft voice stated, the speaker surprisingly close to Connor. 

_Why would he…_ Connor thinks, oddly touched before remembering.

A forceful grab, a desperate command. 

_”Stay.”_

Right, of course. 

Connor moves his hand away from Daniel’s, a feeling of awkwardness overcomes him as he realizes that he has forced the other to stay by his side the entire night, and to top if off, holding its hand throughout the night as well. 

Like a child, a pathetic, needy child that was afraid of the monster hiding under their bed. 

“Thank you, Daniel. You- you may resume your duties now,” Connor stated, making a move to stand up. Perhaps to get ready to go to school, yet a part of him didn’t want to. 

Fearing that Daniel will leave the moment he steps out the door. 

Leaving Connor, going deviant once again and realizing that Connor was- that Connor-

But Connor Anderson wasn’t someone to ditch school for something so trivial.

“Daniel?” the android perks up from where it was standing, holding the MATT VIII up with a wipe in its hand. It flashes a quick smile at him. 

“Stay here alright? Don’t leave the workshop,” Connor hesitated, before tacking on, “this is an order.” the words feeling like lead on his tongue. He already knows that the android won’t leave- _can’t leave_. And yet he issued the order, nonetheless. 

Ordering another android around, as if he had the right.

Maybe he did, if the title of creator meant anything. 

He couldn’t bare to look at the other as he makes quick steps towards the door. 

“Of course, Connor.”

Yellow LED. 

~~_You can’t leave, you can’t, not now._ ~~

~~_I’m sorry._ ~~

\--- 

**[ 23 APRIL, 2012. MONDAY. PM 15:32:05 ]  
[ MANHATTAN, NEW YORK ] **

Connor rushes back to the lab, sprinting out of his classroom the moment he heard the bell. Rushing through the busy streets of Manhattan, New York. Hacking and changing the lights whenever they were in his way. It was probably a misuse of his technology, but surely no one could fault him for doing such a thing. 

He lets out a fake gasp as he reaches the elevator, pretending to be tired and wiping off nonexistent sweat, still very aware of the constant threat that is JARVIS. 

He plays with his coin, looking intently at the floor number going up. Slow. Everything was so slow. 

He rushes out of the elevator and quickly scans his badge to enter the workshop. Not sure why he was expecting a bullet to clip him near his shoulder. 

“Daniel?” 

**”hOw do YoU kNOw mY NaMe?”**

_Red LED, unstable. Deviant._

_Its mission was to put down deviants. And this one is no exception._

_The RK800 won't fail its mission-_

Connor blinks. 

Blue LED. Calm, stable. No software instability. Not a deviant.

_~~It's not Daniel.~~ _

No need for deactivation. 

_~~Not yet.~~ _

“I’m glad you stayed,” Connor says instead, smiling softly at the android. 

_It can’t even leave._ Connor paid the RK800 no heed. 

“Of course, Connor,” the android replied. 

Connor, in a moment of impulse, tried to imitate Stark, moving his hand through the android’s synthetic hair. He winces and stops abruptly as he realizes how awkward the movements look. 

He quickly turns around, drawing his hand back as if burnt. 

Never again.

\---

Despite the teen’s hand being so cold, for some reason the spot where he touched was warm. 

It likes the feeling.

**[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ]**

\---

**[ 28 APRIL, 2012. SATURDAY. AM 5:15:44 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

A yelp awakens Connor, and he was on his feet with record speed, eyes scanning the workshop for possible cause. 

He feels his shoulders relax as he realizes it was just Stark. 

Something lighter than relief bubbles up within him at the fact that the human has finally returned. 

That was until he realize the human was panicking over the sight of Daniel, looking with wide eyes at the android. With said android’s LED flashing yellow. 

He quickly rushes over before anything drastic happened. 

“Hello and welcome back Mr. Stark,” Connor interjects, putting his body between the two. 

Stark seems to calm down a bit at seeing him, but eyes still skeptically trained on Daniel. 

“Nice to see you too,” Stark replied automatically, “though I didn’t expect you to move that fast. Like, I was gone for what- two weeks? And here you are sharing a little ‘boy’s night out’ in my workshop of all places, like Connor-”

“Mr. Stark I-”

“Not that I care or anything, but my workshop’s kinda a safe sanctuary, you know? The places where great inventions are made and where money grows. Not exactly the place for having fun with your boyfriend-”

“Mr. Stark, Daniel is not my boyfriend, in fact it is-” Stark gave a snort, muttering a ‘yeah, right,’ under his breath. 

“Mr. Stark this is- please stop mumbling about teens and their audaciousness- the MATT LX, the- hopefully- last iteration of the MATT series. Now a fully functional domestic android,” Connor introduced, moving to stand right next to Daniel to introduce the android. Placing a hand on its shoulder for extra emphasis that this was in fact, said android. 

Finally, he got Stark to stop talking. The human’s eyes as wide as his jaw as he stares at the MATT LX. They stand like that with Connor awkwardly shifting around, hand still on the android’s still shoulder. Daniel its gaze so ever curious as it scans the human in front of it. 

Blue LED, good. 

Stark walks slowly towards both androids eyes scanning the blonde. Soon turning to Connor and giving him a wide grin that made something wonderful and horrible twist inside Connor’s chest. 

“Good job, Connor,” the man said, eyes crinkling, his gaze was filled with something that Connor didn’t want to think about. 

A second later the man began firing off one question after another, eyes now filled with glee as he focuses his attention on the other android. 

Connor finds himself intoning the information smoothly, watching in amusement as Daniel stood there awkwardly, LED on the verge of turning yellow. Stark seems satisfied with his answers as the man’s questions grew faster and more jumbled. 

Finally Stark moves away, his eyes ablaze and his fingers twitching. Inspired or just simple excitement, would be connor’s guess. 

The man looked proud, his smile was sincere and even though his sunglasses were in the way of his eyes, Connor could see that his eyes were filled with pride. Pride similar to that of a- a- ~~_father?_ \- no- ~~

Pride similar to that of an employer to an employee. 

_There, that was better._

“Good job, Connor, you really outdid yourself,” the man lets out a small laugh, “but wait- did you just spend the night in my lab?”

Distraction, those were always good

“Yes, but don’t worry-”

“Oh my god, Connor.”

\---

 **[ 29 APRIL, 2012. SUNDAY. AM 10:44:21 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

“Do you know someone that look like him?” Stark asks casually one day, toying with the MATT XXI. 

Connor’s movement stilled for a bit before continuing, seeing Daniel from the corner of his vision. 

_Red LED. A windy rooftop. A betrayed deviant and a cold machine._

_**”I know a lot of things about you, Daniel.”** _

Connor takes a shuddering breath, gaze focused on the calming blue of the android’s LED. 

“No, never,” Connor says instead. The confession coming out as a weak whisper, easily carried away by the wind. 

“I never knew him.”

Stark is silent, peering at him, trying to be subtle, Connor turns away. 

Yellow LED. 

\---

Daniel knows it wasn’t equipped with lie detectors, not having meant to be an investigative model. It knows it isn’t supposed to doubt its owner, isn’t built to question.

But it thinks of the boy’s soft touch and nostalgic eyes. And it thinks of the boy’s gentle smile and-

 _“Stay._

It thinks of the boy’s shuddering breaths and hushed words.

_“I never knew him.”_

And it knows, it knows with a striking certainty that-

 **[ CONNOR IS LYING ]**

The words appeared in front of it, flashing blue and bright before vanishing into lines of codes that soon dispersed. 

It is not built to doubt, it is not built to question. And yet.

**[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ]**

\---

**[ 02 MAY, 2012. WEDNESDAY. PM 15:35:13 ]  
[ STARK TOWER: STARK’S WORKSHOP ] **

Today Connor was dismissed early from the workshop. An odd occurrence considering that Stark had never done so before. Also odd was the man’s sombre expression that reminded Connor of the legendary genius businessman that the man is. 

Apparently Stark was having a visitor, which was odd, considering the man’s lack of one in the several months of internship. 

Connor sure why but he quickly stuffs a beanie over Daniel’s head, throwing a jacket over the android, fixing it up a bit making it look more human. 

He did not want anyone to see Daniel, not yet. 

As he leads the android out the door he spots a figure- a white male, middle aged- who gave him a polite smile before shuffling into the workshop. 

He quickly pushes Daniel away.

Phil Coulson, was the man’s name. 

Phil Coulson, a name that Connor disliked instantly.

Phil Coulson, mystery man- literally. 

_Dangerous._

Connor did not like mysteries, when he was the one left to flounder for answers. 

Connor moves faster. 

Something was happening, and for once, Connor was one step behind. 

Get out. Get out. 

Stark was somehow involved in this. 

And as his intern, Connor is entangled as well. 

_Dangerous._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> "i recreated daniel. well, not really. like this is not daniel. bUt I wILL mAKe it DanIeL, so whos the real winner" said connor, the literal robocop turned into a legit profile of a psychopathic serial killer, added with some unhealthy coping mechanism and inability to make good life decisions.
> 
> connor: stay  
> daniel: doki doki  
> me: wow, is it a kdrama or is it a kdrama 
> 
> ft. connor issues- except they're only being made worse and never better.
> 
> also ft. Daniel, who is literally running through those software instabilities like hes in the olympic 100m dash- or just being usain bolt
> 
> tony: *sees connor with daniel* wow, this is what it feels like to watch ur socially inept child make friends.  
> connor: lmao this is an android i created of my dead frienemy, so jokes on u. *dies a little more inside*  
> tony: goddamnit connor
> 
> please leave a comment of your thoughts on this chapter! comment fuel me and i love reading each and every one of them. dont be pressured, just comment about what you thought while reading this chapter what you liked/what you didnt what you look forward to, anything! i love interacting with all my readers and I try my best to reply, although late! :D


	23. a possible lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor gets stuff done

**[ 02 MAY, 2012. WEDNESDAY. PM 16:09:33 ]  
[ CURRENT STATION ] **

Connor leads Daniel to the sofa that laid untouch before the TV, putting his hand on the android’s shoulder and gently pushing downwards, letting Daniel sit on the sofa while his mind was running a million miles per second. 

Multiple programs run in the background as his eyes skim over the various pop-ups that appeared as he delve further into who exactly Phil Coulson- was that even his real name?- is. 

He remembers briefly telling Daniel to go on standby mode as he continues to delve past multiple layers into something that he couldn’t believed he missed before. 

As the name S.H.I.E.L.D constantly appeared in his vision. Blocking him access to their files as he continues to dive deeper. Clearly, S.H.I.E.L.D was an organization of some kind. 

A secret organization? 

Superheroes and now secret organizations.

What has his life come to. 

And Stark- Stark was now involved as well- Connor was 99.32% sure the man was- based on how this ‘Phil Coulson’ had seek the man out. 

Something was brewing in the background, and Connor didn’t like it one bit. 

_Research, more research._

There was no time to waste. 

\---

Connor lets out a shuddering breath and reread the words that appeared before him. 

_Tesseract._

This could be his-

_Came into possession of S.H.I.E.L.D-_

Oh God, this could be-

_A potential source of unlimited energy, amongst other possibilities-_

This could be it- this was the best lead he has. 

_Howard Stark has conducted several studies-_

And Connor knew exactly how to get it. 

_Tony Stark, son to Howard and Maria Stark._

_Use him._

Connor lets out a shaky exhale, something inside him twists with hesitance. 

_Use him. What are you waiting for?_

Connor closes his eyes, facing a wall of roses before him, hearing a faint snip in the distance. 

“Daniel, shall we head back?”

The RK800 smiles, brilliant and perfect. 

\---

A bare and empty home, unfitting of someone like Connor. 

But Daniel wasn’t built to question. 

How perfect the apartment is- eerily so, in fact. 

Daniel was in statis but then something jolted it right out of standby mode- a chuckle. Innocent perhaps, yet the sound made something inside it twist. 

Scared? Machines can’t be scared, but-

It notes as the boy’s eyes shine with an unholy shimmer. Staring into space, seemingly focused on something, eyes wide and lips curled. 

It couldn’t help but think-

“Daniel, shall we head back?” the boy- Connor?- ordered.

His smile was perfect- eerily so. 

_This wasn’t Connor._ It thinks was odd certainty. But it wasn’t built to doubt, it wasn’t built to question. Yet- 

**[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ]**

\---

The RK800 lets out a small hum as it stands in the elevator, watching the numbers move upwards. 

Thirium rushed around wildly throughout its body. 

Its fingers still as it continues to observe the number climbing upwards, and ticking down towards his arrival back at the workshop. 

It leads the fake PL600 out of the elevator smiling at the thing, [ FAC.EXPRESSION_#310 ], only to narrow its eyes when the android seems to draw back, LED yellow. 

Odd. 

It persists on keeping up a friendly facade for the cameras and leads “Daniel” further down the hallway, passing through the doors to the workshop. 

_This can never be Daniel._ It thinks. _But Connor is desperate and foolish._

The RK800 was nothing if indulgent to the whims of that deviant. 

It lowers it gaze for a brief moment, considering. _And not to mention that-_

Stark was there, getting into his famous Iron Man suit, presumably getting ready to take off to the situation in Germany. A slight twist in its plans but no matter- it was built for these situations. 

It made sure to falter under Stark’s accusing gaze. Putting on a sheepish smile it steps closer to Stark. 

“What are you doing here, Connor?” Stark asked, a rough edge to his voice. 

“I-” a stutter here, lower your gaze, “I was worried about you, Mr. Stark,” it said softly. Seemingly unable to meet Stark’s gaze. From the corner of its visual unit it could see Stark’s righteous anger wilt. 

“Look, Connor, you don’t need to worry anymore, I’m fine. I’m just going to be gone for a while- call it a business trip of sorts- I know _again_ \- believe me it wasn’t by choice-” Stark stops seemingly realizing his rambling, “so yeah, surprise business trip,” the man concluded. Laughing nervously.

No. Stark wasn’t going to leave. 

Not without taking the RK800 with him. 

“No,” it said softly, making sure to make eye contact with Stark. **[ FAC.EXPRESSION_#095 RUNNING ]**. A determined glint enters in its eyes. Afraid but determined. Like a puppy trying to defend its owner. 

Stark seems to falter, “what, why?”

“I’m- I’m worried, Mr. Stark. I- I just don’t have a good feeling about this,” it stated, seemingly embarrassed at its reasoning. **[ RUNNING FAC.EXPRESSION_#148 ]**

Stark lets out a soft sigh, about to speak again when the RK800 interrupts him. 

“Mr. Stark- I just have a really bad feeling and-” it stops, pretending to search for words that it can’t express, fumbling with its tie, instead of fixing it, seemingly making the tie even more fumbled due to its nerves. 

“Connor, I have to go- this is like some super important stuff- but don’t-” Stark tried to reassure the upset teen. 

“If- if you have to go then- then take me with you!” it said, seemingly from impulse. Making sure to look just as surprised as Stark, but still resolute. **[ RUNNING FAC.EXPRESSION_#422 ]**

Stark shoots him a look, still looking stubborn in his decision. 

“No, sorry, Connor. This is dangerous,” Stark stated before turning away hesitantly. 

“Wait- please-” it made its vocal unit crack, “-Mr. Stark!” it shouted desperately, running and stumbling down into the ground, **[ NO DAMAGE DETECTED ]**. Stark making a move to come closer before it quickly crawls to the man, taking a hold of the man’s armor. As if afraid the man will slip through his fingers. 

**[ STARTING FAC.EXPRESSION_#105... ]**

**[ STARTING TEARS.EXE... ]**

Stark seems to soften, biting his lips as he gazes down at the RK800, the android- having stumbled- kneeling in front of Stark, clutching at the man’s hands now. The RK800 made sure to make its eyes wide and desperate, shining with unshed saline solution, as it looks up at Stark. Gripping Stark’s hands and making its knuckles turn white. Its hair a mess due to the tumble it took. 

“Please, Mr. Stark. I don’t-" it makes it audio unit crack once more, "-won’t get involved, I- I just want to come with you,” it said softly. Begging. Pleading. 

Stark seems to waver. 

“Please, Mr. Stark. The last time I felt this, I- I-” it seems to waver, gulping down its dry throat stopping mid-sentence, “things- he- he- nevermind. Please, just let me come with you.” it concludes.

Stark seems like he was about to refuse again, and the RK800 knows it has to deal one last attack to the man. 

**[ GENERATING RESPONSE… ]**

It knew Stark, knew the way that the man would look at it with pity. Connor might not notice, may play his little game of denial and make-belief, because he was _wea_ , but the RK800 was different. It knew that the man liked it- sympathize with it, sympathize with Connor Anderson’s sad, lonely life. 

It knew where to hit Stark, Connor’s unintentional trail of breadcrumbs had Stark interested- had him shooting blind into whatever Connor Anderson’s past may be. The RK800 wasn’t adverse to throwing him some more clues, afterall Stark wanted to know more about Connor Anderson. 

**[ RESPONSE GENERATED ]**

**[ RUNNING FAC.EXPRESSION_#111 ]**

“Please,” it adds, hook, brows scrunching up and biting its lips, loose hair falling down. Frame fragile and brittle, shoulders tensing along with its hand as if preparing to hold onto Stark for an indeterminate amount of time, “I don’t want to lose another- not if I can-” it stops itself knowing fully well what it was doing. Breadcrumbs, leading to nowhere, but its target doesn’t know that. 

Stark brows furrow, it can just see the gears turning in the man’s head. 

It waits. Line. 

“Okay, okay,” Stark relents, helping it up, “just stand up will you?” 

Sinker. 

**[ RUNNING FAC.EXPRESSION_#049 ]**

It made its eyes shine, letting a shaky smile spread across its lips. Standing up quickly as if afraid of Stark rescinding his statement if it were a second late. 

**[ STOP TEARS.EXE ]**

Stark gives him a defeated smile, his movements smooth despite being inside such clunky armor. 

“Promise not to get involved?” the man asked.

**[ RUNNING FAC.EXPRESSION_#491 ]**

The RK800 lets out a relieved sigh, looking gratefully at Stark. A hesitant smile playing on its lips. 

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

“Promise to run at the first sign of danger?” 

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“Promise to not try and be a hero?”

“Slightly ironic that _you_ would say that, but yes.” Stark gives it a mock glare at that. 

“Promise to-”

**[ RUNNING FAC.EXPRESSION_#159 ]**

“Yes! I promise to everything, Mr. Stark! Can we just go now?” it whined playing up its age. Stark lets out a huff of laughter. 

It crosses its fingers behind its back. 

“Don’t think I’ve seen you so worked up, but yeah, alright, let’s get going- god knows what the world will do without Iron Man.”

Stark gives him soft grin, messing up his hair before gesturing for Connor to follow him.

The RK800 fixes its hair, fixing its tie as well as it walks behind the man. It eyes were cold. 

**[ SIMULATION ENDING... ]**

A smile stretches across its lips. Cruel and perfect. 

**[ MISSION SUCCESS ]**

\---

Connor chokes on red petals as he opens his eyes, hands clutching around his throat. Pausing in his steps for a brief moment before resuming his steps towards Stark. 

Hope blooms within his chest. 

And so does remorse.

Connor knows he is weak. He knows he is weak, and the RK800 is strong.

He wishes he could be strong.

But until he could become strong, remorse will continue to fester within his chest, twisting and infecting his systems. Making his thirium pump clench everytime he looks at Stark. 

Because Connor is weak. 

_Pathetic._

\---

Daniel observes the boy’s desperate attempts at holding the man back. 

Watches as the boy become desperate at just a flip of a coin, so different from the calmness of before. 

Watches and shivers as another smile lights up the boys face, unholy in its perfection. 

_This isn’t Connor._

Watches as suddenly the boy lifts a hand to his throat eyes lost and moving wildly around the room as if reaffirming where he was. 

It notes as the boy resumes his soft steps, eyes downcast and lips crooked. 

_Oh, there’s Connor._

And it wonders. 

**[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ] ******

****\---** **

Later Connor gets lifted up into the air, being held by the waist as Stark takes him flying. 

Destination: Germany. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD: we are like a super secret organization with many layers of security preventing any of our TOP SECRET information from getting out.  
> connor: lmao security who?
> 
> connor: *fails at acting remotely human* wow im so natural  
> rk800: *holds up an oscar* call me leonardo dicaprio bitch
> 
> rk800: im totes connor  
> tony: *knows connor for like 5 months* hi connor  
> daniel: *knows connor for less than a week*who the heck
> 
> pls leave a comment I enjoy reading each and every single one of them! Judt comment about your thoughts on the chapter what you enjoyed and what you didn't enjoy, your future predictions, your analysis, just anything! Love you all! <3


	24. Defending a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor is in germany, and then hes in the invisible ship, and then theres an argument.

Connor is dropped into a battlefield. Or at least something resembling one. He was gently placed down by Stark before the man flew off at top speed.

There were two figures in the distance, Connor making out their features with his enhanced vision, though the sight did make him visibly confused. 

One was a grown man wearing a blue, white, and red spandex, obviously meant to represent the American flag. Throwing around a shield- shield?- as his weapon, though it was ridiculous judging by how dented the walls looked after the shield bounced off it Connor didn’t want to be the target of that shield any time soon. 

The other was a man dressed in a gaudy viking-inspired getup of some kind. Decked out in dark green and gold that just screams to the world of his wealth His golden horned helmet didn’t help the matter much either. His weapon- a staff- captured Connor’s eyes. Clearly, it wasn’t manmade, the ethereal glow at its tip proves that. 

Another lead perhaps? 

At this point the man in spandex- Connor soon realized that his name was Captain America- loses his shield somewhere and instead of going to retrieve his weapon turns to using his fists instead. Although, Connor didn’t doubt the power being his punches either. Which also speaks of his opponent’s tenacity or alieness of not seeming even injured with the numerous hits. 

The two were locked in heated combat. With the tides seemingly turning in the green man’s favor as Captain America was forced to kneel but it quickly reversed as the superhero delivers a kick that sent his opponent backwards, once again returning the status quo to an odd stalemate as the two continue to duke it out. 

Connor felt like he was in a movie. 

He looks up to see some aircraft flying high in the sky as well. Presumably here to aid the hero, or at least he hopes, not sure if even Mr. Stark can take care of that many enemies. 

Connor hears a crash in the background as his attention returns to the fight, now coming to an anticlimactic end as it was evident that Stark had just sent the villain(?) flying backwards yet again and kept him there with promises of further violence as panels of his suit opens revealing more blasters. 

“Make your move, Reindeer Games,” Connor hears the heavily modulated voice coming from the man as he threatens the villain on the ground. 

Connor couldn’t help but want to cheer the man on. Marveling at the effectiveness of both man and suit, at how quickly the man ended the fight. 

The villain’s image shimmer for a bit, making Connor blink in astonishment, before his grand armor dissipates leaving behind a man with slicked black hair in civilian clothing raising his hand in surrender. 

“Good move,” Stark quips, sounding jovial. The panels on his suit closing once more, once again hiding his arsenal from sight. 

While a part of Connor was slowly chewing down this new information about there being _magic_ to think consider about now.

Another part of him thinks, _This is a hero._

His eyes gleam as he stares at Stark, his hands moving to clap despite there being no input to do so, and a his lips move into a crooked grin. 

The man turning around, as if hearing the clap, and gives a little bow as if he were a performer. The triangle in the center of his chest plate burns itself into Connor’s mind. 

And Connor’s grin grew. 

And his thirium pumps beats faster ever so slightly. 

_Hero._

The word heavy on his tongue as he mouths it. 

\--- 

Connor soon finds himself on an aircraft of some kind, being separate from Stark due to the man being wary of him hanging around a villain. Nevertheless, the man was generous enough to let him stay on the aircraft. He sits there idly observing his surroundings as he was in a meeting room of some kind. He could feel the stares on him from the presumably SHIELD agents as they mild around doing their tasks. Multitasking between keeping track of him and doing their job. Admirable, he supposes, but at the same time annoying. His annoyance coming from almost being shot due to pulling out his coin from his pocket. 

It was somewhat understandable he supposes, but annoying nonetheless. 

He pushes his annoyance away as he connects to one of the local servers, connecting himself wirelessly to SHIELD’s network. Which was, once again, filled with many firewalls, all of which crumbled like paper in water as he passes through them. 

He leans back against the chair closing his eyes. 

Seeing a treasure trove of information in the darkness. 

Coming here with Stark was the right decision indeed. 

The cameras became his eyes as he memorize the layout of the ship. Multiple windows popping up at the same time, all with varying levels of clearance that were soon downloaded into his storage and reorganized. 

He hears a crash in the background, dismissing it as minor issues before refocusing himself into all the files he stumbled onto. 

\---

He opens his eyes as he hears footsteps heading his way. He quickly moves out of his seat as he sees Captain America along with Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff- another shield agent, and a mystery man with wild blond hair and ancient armor. The style of which resembles the villain that Stark fought against earlier. They seemed to occupied with their conversation to truly take notice of him. Although the agent did but she seem to pay him no mind, either finding him harmless or getting the memo that he was Stark’s intern or maybe both. 

Captain America- or should he say Rogers- take off his cowl in a huff as he sits down on one of the chair surrounding the conference table, arms crossed. 

“He really grows on you, doesn’t he,” Banner commented, viewing the interaction between the presumed leader of SHIELD. Fury(?) as the man tried to interrogate the villain on the information about an apparent alien invasion. 

“Loki’s going to drag this out,” Rogers stated, glancing once at the villain and then adjusting his gaze to the newcomer, “so, Thor, what’s his play?”

Connor takes a millisecond to process that before his mind was on overdrive. 

Loki and Thor. One is a coincidence and if there are two of them, then, well…

Connor supposes gods existed now, or at least those from Norse mythology. 

Magic exist and so do gods. 

How strange. But he supposes that it makes things easier if there were magic in the midst, accomplishing the seemingly impossible task of travelling through dimensions didn’t seem so impossible anymore with the addition of magic. 

“He has an army called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard nor any world known. He means to lead the against your people. They will win him the Earth, in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract,” Thor answered with a solemn nod, setting his gaze on Rogers.

Tesseract. 

Connor’s thririum pump speed up yet again. 

Tesseract, the seeming lead to his way home. 

He starts to focus more on the conversation and Loki- the god with his key home, or at least more knowledge of the key than anyone else. 

“An army? From out of space?” Rogers asked, face set in a confused frown as if he was expecting Thor to pull out the confettis and say that it was a late April’s Fools celebration. 

Connor can relate. 

“So, he’s building another portal. That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for,” Banner concluded, standing up from his chair and started to pace around. 

“Selvig?” Thor asked, face as confused as Rogers. 

“He’s an astrophysicist,” Banner answered, still caught up in his thoughts. Missing the way that the word flew over Thor’s head completely. 

“A friend,” Thor concluded, nodding to himself, looking a bit smug. Connor was really starting to doubt the validity of gods, or at least just this one. 

“Loki has them under some kind of spell- along with one of ours,” Romanoff spoke, brows scrunched and lips thin. 

“I wanna know why Loki let us take him. He’s not leading an army from here,” Rogers stated, clearly starting to get frustrated, or at least annoyed, at the lack of answers. 

I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy’s brain is a bag full of cats, you can smell crazy on him,” Banner replied, looking to and fro between Loki and Rogers. 

“Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason but he is of Asgard, and he is my brother,” Thor shot back, posture defensive and ready to go offensive for his brother’s(?) honor. 

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Romanoff stated, eyes sharp like daggers as she stares accusingly at the god. Daring him to answer her. 

Thor actually pauses at that, posture faltering as he looks at the agent. Connor- despite his lack of mind reading abilities- could tell that Thor forgot about that little detail. 

“He’s adopted?” Thor replied, as if that would truly solve any issues involving his adopted brother murdering people. Although the thunder god does seem confuse himself. 

“I think it’s about the mechanics. Iridium, what do they need the Iridium for?” Banner, thankfully logical, steers the conversation back to where it should be. Although Connor wasn’t really sure if Thor knew anything about the Tesseract at this point. 

“It’s a stabilizing agent,” a familiar voice answered, tone smooth and arrogant.

Stark walks in with Coulson in tow, his presence making a tense lock somewhere in Connor loosen just a bit. He easily takes his place behind his employer, looking to the rest of the room as though he has just entered with the duo. 

“Means the portal won’t collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD,” Stark added, moving away from Coulson and closer to Thor, “No hard feelings point break, you got a mean swing,” the man quipped as he gives Thor a pat on his arm as he walks away closer to the control panel. Connor following the man, soon placing himself to the side of Stark, but still within reach of the man. 

He doesn’t miss the look that Thor and Rogers give his employer either. 

“-also, means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants,” Stark explained, shifting his eyes away from the panel onto one of SHIELD’s personnel, “ah, raise the mizzen mast, ship the topsails.”

The personnel looks at Stark strangely, “That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn’t notice, but we did.”

Stark is now standing at the command area of the ship, raising one of his hand to cover his eye.

“How does Fury even see these?” Stark asks, his uncovered eye squinting comically as if trying to make out a dot of dust on the impeccable ceiling. 

Fury, presumably Nick Fury, director of SHIELD. Former officer of the United States Army and apparent ex-espionage operative for the CIA during the Cold War. All other files not yet accessed. The man with an eyepatch over his left eye. 

“He turns!” the agent, Maria Hills, snapped. Her tone cross, agitation clear. 

“Sounds exhausting!” Stark quipped, still jovial as though he hadn’t heard the snappish tone Hills used. His fingers began to move across the screens, seemingly at random, as he stuck something to the bottom to the underside of the desk. 

“The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily. Only major component he still needs is a power source of high energy density. Something to-,” Stark pauses for a bit, tilting his head a milimeter to the side, “kick start the Cube,” Stark concluded, eyes gleaming with infinite knowledge. 

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” Hills questioned dubiously, crossing her arms across her chest. Body language meant to intimidate. 

“Last night. The packet, Selvig’s notes, the extraction theory papers-” Stark pauses, taking note of the reaction of everyone in the room, and obviously not finding it pleasing, “am I the only one who did the reading?” Apparently he did if the lost look of most around the table meant anything. 

“Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?” Rogers asked, gaze focused on Stark. Strangely analytical as though observing the inventor. 

“He’s have to heat the Cube to a hundred and twenty million kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier,” Banner replied instead, continue to ponder about the mixed puzzle pieces that he’d been given. 

“Unless, Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the Quantum Tunneling effect,” Stark added, lips curving upwards into a smile. Perhaps happy that someone _did_ do the reading. 

“Well, if he could do that he could achieve heavy-ion fusion at any reactor on the planet,” Banner finished, oddly breathless. A rare look of confidence crosses the scientist’s face and Connor can just see all the puzzle pieces click in the man’s head. 

“Finally. Someone who speaks English,” Stark commented, part-joking, part-actual insult, as he holds out his hand. 

Banner quickly catches the cue- quick considering Connor’s analysis of the man’s character- and shakes Stark’s hand. The two appearing to be bosom buds. 

“What just happened?” Rogers asked, facing the rest of the room. Still looking as lost as ever. 

“It’s good to meet you, Doctor Banner. Your work on anti-electronic collisions is unparalleled. And I’m a huge fan of the way you- lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster,” Stark praised. The statement, the latter half to be more specific, made Banner stiffen and deflate. 

“...thanks,” Banner replied with much hesitance, eyes now suddenly drawn to the ground. Throughout the entire conversation the man was nervous, unconfident, meek, and afraid. Although not of Stark but of another cause that Connor couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“Doctor Banner is only here to track the Cube. I was hoping you might join him,” the man- Nick Fury- explains as he enters. Giving Connor a quick glance before returning his gaze to Stark. 

“I’d start with that stick of his. It may be magical but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon,” Captain America suggested, an awfully crude suggestion, but one with potential. 

“I don’t know about that, but it is powered by the Cube. And I like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys,” Fury stated, voice giving nothing away. The Cube that he refers to- it must be the Tesseract or something related to it.

A trail of breadcrumbs, he thinks. Leading to nowhere? Or…

“Monkeys? I do not understand-” Thor begins. 

“I do!” Rogers shouted, eyes gleaming with delight. The room turn silent after his shout, all staring at the blond.

“I...I understood that reference,” Rogers explained, shoulders tense and figure slumped, as if trying to make himself appear smaller. Though that was a futile effort.

Stark lets out a snort, “Shall we play, Doctor?”

Banner looks slightly startle at the fact that the inventor would address him but calmed down remarkably quickly, “This way, sir,” the man said as he gestures towards the door. Stark walks out with Banner following him. Connor soon follows suit, glancing at Rogers one last time. 

_Fate_ He thinks. _Is an unpredictable mistress._

\---

The two humans settle nicely in the lab. Both working together on tracking down the Cube. Banner shoots him nervous glances from time to time. 

“Don’t worry about him- he’s my intern,” Stark stated without looking up from the hologram. 

“Wha- oh, alright,” Banner spoke hesitantly, still visibly worried from the android’s presence although less so than before. 

“The Gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig’s reports on the Tesseract. But it’s gonna take weeks to process,” Banner concluded, gazing at some kind of chart. 

“If we bypass their mainframe and direct route to the Homer cluster we can clock this at around six hundred teraflops,” Stark added, looking at the screen, its blue glow reflecting on his face. 

“All I packed was a toothbrush,” Banner joked weakly- though Connor doubts whether it was really an intentional joke or the awkward man was just listing a fact. 

Stark seems to take it as a joke as he giggles, “you know, you should come by Stark  
Tower some time. Top ten floorsall R and D. You’d love it, it’s a candy land.”

Connor couldn’t tell whether or not Stark was serious. 

“Thanks but...last time I was in New York I kind of broke...Harlem.” Cue the awkward shuffling. 

“Well, I promise a stress free environment. No tension, no surprises,” Stark listed, sounding awfully serious with his invitation. 

Oh dear, Stark really was serious. And with the man’s persuasion skills Connor has no doubt that Banner will become a staple at the workshop in no time. 

Meaning more supervision, joy.

But Connor feels more assured in his human integration programs, confident that he can at least fool the awkward scientist.

Banner lets out a yelp as Stark zaps him. 

Oh yeah, Stark was definitely serious. 

“Hey!” Rogers shouted, entering from the door, expression disgruntled- or at least annoyed. 

“Nothing?” Stark said. 

Rogers continue to approach Stark, “Are you nuts?” the blond exclaimed. Sounding quite displeased with Stark. 

Connor finds himself stepping closer to the scene. 

“Jury’s out!” Stark quipped before turning back to Banner, “you really have got a lid on it, haven’t you? What’s your secret? Mellow jazz, bongo drums, huge bag of weed?”

“Is everything a joke to you?” Rogers reprimanded, face contorted into a frown. 

Connor can feel his thirium turning hotter. 

“Funny things are,” Stark replies, still joking around as though he was not being reprimanded by another superhero. 

“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn’t funny,” Rogers stated, teeth gnashing together, “no offense, Doc,” the blond added before turning his angry gaze back to Stark. 

“No it’s alright. I wouldn’t have come aboard if I couldn’t handle pointy things,” Banner explained, trying- in vain- to stop the tension from rising. 

“You’re tip-toeing, big man. You need to strut,” Stark provoked, seemingly eager to add more oil to the fire that was Rogers. 

“And you need to focus on the problem, Mister Stark,” Rogers barked. 

“You think I’m not? Why did Fury call us in? Why now, why not before? What isn’t he telling us? I can’t do the equation unless I have all the variables.”

“You think Fury’s hiding something?” Rogers asked, disbelieving. Although his fire seems to have been dampened a bit. 

“He’s a spy. Captain, he’s the spy. His secrets have secrets,” Stark explained- tone drool as though he were explaining the concept to a five-year-old- he then gestures to Banner, “it’s bugging him to, isn’t it?”

“Uh, Aah, I just wanna finish my work here and-”

“Doc?” Rogers implored, face turning much gentler when looking at the scientist. 

“‘A warm light for all mankind,’ Loki’s jab at Fury about the Cube,” Banner began, hands gesturing randomly as he searches for something. 

“I heard it.”

“Well, I think that was meant for you,” Banner revealed to the soldier hesitantly, gesturing towards Stark who offers him a blueberry, “Even if Barton didn’t tell Loki about the tower, it was still all over the news.”

“The Stark Tower? That big ugly-” Stark shoots Rogers a look, it wasn’t a very pleasant one, “-building in New York?”

Bad sense of architecture, Connor notes. 

“It’s powered by an arc reactor, self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for, what, a year?” Banner explained, looking to Stark for an answer. 

“It’s just the prototype,” Stark answers before turning to Rogers, his chin noticeably higher, “I’m kind of the only name in clean energy right now, that’s what he’s getting at.”

“So, why didn’t SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project? What are they even doing in the energy business in the first place?” Banner concluded. 

“I should probably look into that as soon as my decryption program finishes breaking into all of  
SHIELD’s secure files,” Stark confessed casually, as though he was just planning a picnic. 

“I’m sorry did you say-” 

“JARVIS has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours I’ll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide. Blueberry?” the man elaborated, smugly offering Rogers one of his precious blueberries. 

“Yet you’re confused about why they didn’t want you around,” Rogers- jested? Joked?- though his tone was remarkably calmer, though skeptical. 

Quick bursts of anger, but easy to calm down. 

“An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not awesome.”

“I think Loki’s trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war and if we don’t stay focused he’ll succeed. We have orders, we should follow them,” Rogers stated. 

Military man, fond of order and commands. A trait that can be useful for Connor later on. 

“Following’s not really my style,” Stark countered. There was the manchild that Connor know. 

“And you’re all about style, aren’t you?” Rogers snarked. 

“Out of the people in this room, which one is "A" wearing a spangly outfit and "B" not of use?” Stark countered, taking an obnoxious bite of his blueberries. 

“Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?” Banner- ever so logical and mature- drives the conversation back to its main topic. 

“Just find the Cube,” Rogers ordered before walking out of the lab, Stark lets out a childish cheer as the man did so. 

Still not doubtful of his leader, strong faith- or is it blind loyalty? No matter- just another trait to exploit later. 

“That’s the guy my dad never shut up about? Wondering if they shouldn’t have kept him on ice,” Stark commented casually, as he began fiddling with the screen again. 

**[ STARK WASN’T CLOSE WITH HIS FATHER ]**

**[ CAPTAIN AMERICA- STRONG PRESENCE IN STARK’S YOUTHS? ]**

Not fond of Captain America either if the bitter tone he took on was anything of note. 

“Guy’s not wrong about Loki, he does have the jump on us.”

“What he’s got is an ACME dynamite kit. It’s gonna blow up in his face, and I’m gonna be there when it does.”

“I’ll read all about it,” Banner jokes, more relax around Stark as time goes on. 

“Mhm, or, you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

“Now, you see I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed, like a nerve, it’s a nightmare.” Banner reveals, gaze averting Stark completely. 

Oh? 

“You know, I’ve got a cluster shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart. This stops it,” Stark said, tapping the piece of technology in the middle of his chest, “-this little circle of light. It’s part of me now, not just armor. It’s a terrible privilege.”

“But you can control it,” Banner noted bitterly. 

“Because I learned how.”

“It’s different.”

Stark wipes clean the screen that he and the other was working on. 

“Hey, I read all about your accident. That much Gamma exposure should’ve killed you.”

“So you’re saying that the Hulk- the Other Guy- saved my life? That’s nice. That’s nice sentiment. Saved it for- what?” Banner replied, self-depreciating. Low self-esteem, Connor notes. 

_Easier to control._ the RK800 notes. 

 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“You may not enjoy that.”

“And you just might,” Stark shot back, winking at Banner. The scientist giving a hesitant smile back. 

What a beautiful bonding moment, beautiful enough to be recorded. 

Maybe it will find some use later on. 

Connor takes several steps back to where he was, immersing himself in whatever Stark and Banner was working on. 

\--- 

Later Fury enters the lab, his trench coat billowing behind him due to nonexistent wind. 

“What are you doing, Mr. Stark?” Fury interrogated, aggressive. 

“Uh- kind of been wondering the same thing about you,” Stark replied, eyes moving across the screen. 

“You’re supposed to be locating the Tesseract,” Fury reminded, still succinctly annoyed. 

“We are, the model’s locked and we’re sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we’ll have the location within half a mile,” Banner placated. 

“And you’ll get your cube back, no muss, no fuss. What is Phase Two?”

At this moment Rogers enters carrying with him a gun of some kind and slamming said gun down on the table. 

“Phase Two is SHIELD used the Cube to make weapons,” Rogers snarled, before turning to Stark, “sorry, computer was moving a little slow for me.”

So not all blind loyalty and unbreakable trust in his superiors. 

“Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we’re-”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” Stark cuts in, turning the screen to showcase some blueprints for a missile, “What were you hiding?” 

Connor notes the use of first name for Stark. 

“I was wrong, Director. The world hasn’t changed a bit,” Rogers bit out, voice awfully bitter and old for a man that physically looked around his mid-twenties to early-thirties. 

Thor and Romanoff enters as if drawn by the conflict. 

“Did you know about this?” Banner questioned, looking at the agent. 

“You wanna think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?” the woman counters. 

Banner lets out harsh laughs, “I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed.”

The agent must’ve seen that her first method wasn’t going to work and tried for a different one instead, “Loki’s manipulating you.” 

“And you’ve been doing what exactly?” Banner hissed. 

“You didn’t come here because I bat my eyelashes at you,” the redhead clipped, lips pursing. 

“Yes, and I’m not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy. I’d like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction,” Banner stated. And Connor couldn’t deny that his reason was pretty sound. 

Fury pointed at the thunder god, “because of him.”

“Me?” Thor blurted, sounding as surprised at the revelation as the rest of the room. 

“Last year earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, out-gunned,” Fury explained. 

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet,” Thor growled defensively, brows scrunched and eye ablaze.

“But you’re not the only people out there, are you? And, you’re not the only threat. The world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched, they can’t be controlled,” Fury corrected. 

“Like you controlled the cube!” Rogers shouted, getting fed up with the conversation and Fury’s denial.

“Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is the signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war,” Thor accused, taking several steps closer to Fury. Making the redhead agent move closer as well. 

“A higher form?!” Rogers yelped. 

“You forced our hand! We had to come up with some-”

“Nuclear deterrent! ’Cause that always calms everything right down!” Stark interrupts. The tension in the room growing even more. 

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?” Fury retorted, sneering at Stark.

“I’m sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep-” Rogers cut in.

“Wait-Wait! Hold on! How is this now about me?” Stark shouted, baffled. 

“I’m sorry, isn’t everything?” Rogers quipped. Connor moves closer to Stark. 

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor remarked. So did Connor. 

The tension seems to erupt and soon everyone was speaking at once. And Connor was sure that if he wasn’t an advanced prototype his processors would be going into an overdrive just to make out what was going on. 

“Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?” Fury accused. 

“Tis your champion,” Thor stated. 

“You’re not my champion!” Fury hollered. 

“Are you boys really that naive? S.H.I.E.L.D monitors potential threats,” Romanoff sneered, side by side with her superior. 

“You furious? I’m furious,” Stark stated. Expression not changing much, but Connor knew the man’s temper was getting worse. 

And to top it off- that was affecting him as well. 

“And Captain America is on the threat poll?” 

“We all are!” Romanoff yelled, voice raising, her hair seem to spread out like fire. 

“That’s none of your concern doctor!” Fury shouted at the same time. 

Connor notes the scepter- Loki’s scepter glowing brighter as the arguing continues. 

Connor does nothing to stop the shouting match and continues to observe, this time his attention split between the verbal war and the scepter. 

“You’re on that list? Are you above or below angry bees?” Stark scoffed, directing his comment at Rogers. 

“I swear to God, Stark, one more crack…” Rogers warned, anger being held in restraint by a mere thread. 

“You’re a threat. A verbal threat! I feel threatened!” Stark hollered, treading over what remnants there were of Roger’s patience. 

“Show some respect!” Rogers threatened.

“Respect what!” Stark shot back.

“Yeah man handle me now, that’ll be good,” Banner shouted at Thor from some corner of the room. The meek scientist image wearing away as his anger comes on full display. 

“You speak of control, yet you court chaos!” Thor retorted, snarling at the scientist. 

“It’s his MO, isn’t it? I mean, what are we, a team? No, no, no. We’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We’re- we’re a time bomb,” Banner ranted, getting closer to Thor.

“You need to step away,” Fury warned. 

“Why shouldn’t they guy let off a little steam?” Stark taunted, sneering at the director. 

“You know damn well why! Back off!” Rogers grunted, coming increasingly closer to Stark. 

Connor’s body automatically moves closer to Stark. Now within arm’s reach of the millionaire. 

“Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me,” Stark jeered, intent on snapping whatever rational Rogers had left. 

“Yeah, big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?” Rogers taunted. 

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” Stark shot back casually. Although his eyes were anything but. 

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you,” Rogers ranted, hands moving to grab Stark by the collar. Connor lets out a soft growl.

How dare Rogers- the man has never even seen Stark before today. Has never seen the millionaire with his inventions, has never seen his brilliance, has never-

_Calm._

“I think I would just cut the wire,” Stark snarled, awfully calm for someone being held up by the collar of his shirt. 

Connor’s thirium was flowing around wildly. 

“Always a way out. You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero,” Rogers snapped. 

Not a hero? Who was Rogers to-

_Lay low. Lay low._

“A hero, like you? You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle,” Stark retorted, sneering at the blond. 

Rogers smirks, “Put on the suit, let’s go a few rounds.”

That was enough, Connor decided.

Connor reaches out for Roger’s grip on Stark’s collar. Knowing full well that a normal teen shouldn’t be able to lift it. 

But for once Connor is not Connor Anderson. Connor is Connor- the most advanced prototype manufactured to be superhuman in all the ways that mattered. 

And for once Connor didn’t care about his cover.

“That’s enough, Mr. Rogers,” Connor stated before tearing Roger’s hand away from Stark and helping Stark regain his balance before setting himself in front of Stark. 

He comes face to face with Rogers, who looks somewhat shock at his grip being torn away so easily. 

“I, too, know someone- a hero, Iron Man, you might’ve heard of his name once or twice- who is worth a thousand of your friends,” Connor stated. 

“You people are so petty, and tiny,” Thor stated in the silence as he laughs. 

Connor Anderson is certainly not petty, but he isn’t Connor Anderson right now. 

He is just Connor. An android who wants to defend a good man- misunderstood and slandered- a man so familiar to someone and yet not- 

_What are you doing?_

He doesn’t know- 

And he doesn’t care. 

_Defending a hero._ A part of him- disjointed a feeble- whispers. 

“Iron Man- no, Mr. Stark is more of a hero than you’ll ever be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> steve and loki: fights an epic battle that lasts for several minutes  
> tony, is there for one second and ends the fight. 
> 
> SHIELD: we are, once again, a secret organization with tons of secret info with top security  
> connor: wE aRE a SeCREt OrGaNIzaTIon wItH tOp SEcUriTy
> 
> the avengers + fury: just chats about goddam aliens and the tesseract in front of a teenager. you know, as you do. 
> 
> tony: u want so blueberries  
> steve: so about this whole very important business about SHIELD-  
> tony: blueberries
> 
> fury: look its all a misunderstanding-  
> steve: hydra gun  
> tony: missile blueprint  
> fury: aliens
> 
> fury: *legit suspicious af*  
> steve: what did u do now tony
> 
> steve: *starts insulting tony*  
> connor, the android that is deadset on staying under the radar: *uses superhuman strength* listen up bitch  
> rk800: *watching its effort crumble away* l i s t e n u p, c o n n o r 
> 
> sorry for not updating for so long, and i hope u aint bored with this exposition ass chapter. anyways same as usual. leave a comment on what you enjoyed, what you didn't enjoy, your analysis your predictions, just anything really! this helps me understand what you guys like and what you guys didnt so this sorta helps me improve the story as well!
> 
> even though i cant reply as often anymore the comments really help motivate me!


	25. Return to Stark Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more of canon plot, tony and connor goes back to the stark tower, loki, and connor may or may not fight.

Rogers seems shock, and Connor was the same. 

“Wha- you-” Rogers stutters, trying to articulate his sentence, yet failing to grasp at his words. 

The blond attempts to draw his hands back from Connor’s grip, eyes widening as Connor doesn’t budge. 

“Yes, me,” Connor said before tugging the hand towards his body, making the superhero lose his balance and slightly lean forward, “oh, ran out of a war to fight so you go creating conflict instead?”

Rogers froze, gaze accessing Connor. Connor leans closer, jerking his hand and making the superhero stumble forward, leaning over the man, “let’s go a few rounds, Mr. Rogers, just _you and me_.”

“Connor, stop,” Stark interrupts, trying to push himself between Rogers and the android. 

“But, Mr. Stark- I-” Connor tries to explain, grip still strong on Roger’s fist. 

“Connor,” Stark commanded, placing a calming hand on the android’s shoulder. 

“Very well, Mr. Stark,” Connor replied hesitantly, turning back to Rogers jerking his hand closer to himself yet again moving his face closer to the other’s ear before whispering, “this is not over, Mr. Rogers.” He straightens up, tightening his grip once last time before tossing the other’s arm away. 

Stark quickly maneuvers himself between Connor and the other man, lips raised into an ugly sneer. 

“Touch a hair on his head and you’ll find yourself back in the ice quicker than you can say “America,” old man,” Stark threatened. 

“Oh, yeah, this is a team,” Banner commented sarcastically, watching over the drama unfolding. 

“Agent Romanoff, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his-” 

“Where? You rented my room out!” Banner yelled incredulously, gesturing to the ceiling, or somewhere upwards. 

“The cell was just-”

“In case you needed to kill me. But you can’t! I know, I tried!” Banner shouted, unknowingly gravitating towards the scepter, before snatching it right up once he was close enough, “I got low. I didn’t see an end so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out,” the last part was spat out bitterly, “so I moved on, I focused on helping other people. I was good until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk. You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You wanna know how I stay calm?” The scientist raises the scepter slightly at the end of his tirade. 

Fury and Romanoff reaches for their gun.

“Doctor Banner, put down the scepter,” Rogers commanded, holding out his hand towards the fuming scientist. Banner lets out a soft exhale, eyes widening as he gazes at the scepter that rests in his hand; unable to comprehend how or why they were there. 

At that moment the monitor makes a sound, signalling the success of locating the Tesseract. Banner quickly puts the scepter back to its original place, wiping his hands on his pants as if it will somehow remove any remnants of the Tesseract from them as he moves closer to the monitor. 

“Got it!” Fury yelled, hands still hovering over his gun but figure noticeably less tense. 

“Sorry, kids. You don’t get to see my party trick after all,” Banner joked meekly. 

“Located the Tesseract?” Thor queried, looking curiously at the monitor- seeing the screen and yet not at the same time. 

“I can get there faster,” Stark proposed, turning around. 

Rogers protested to the idea, but Stark- being the man that he was- continue to walk away. Rogers lets out a sound of distress before resorting to physically holding the millionaire back. Causing alarms to go off inside of Connor’s head as he reaches for the other, ready to remove him from the brunette. 

“You’re not going alone!” Rogers shouted, letting out a yelp as Stark smacks his hand at the same time that Connor moving to tear away the offending grip. The android placing himself subtly to the side of Stark, slightly in front of the inventor, ready to intervene if Rogers were to get physical again. Stark place a calming hand on his back. 

“You gonna stop me?” Stark retorted.

“Put on the suit, let’s find out!” Rogers taunted, moving closer to the inventor. 

“Mr. Rogers…” Connor warned. 

“I’m not afraid to hit an old man,” Stark goaded, moving closer to the other superhero as well, forcing Connor to directly put himself in the line of fire. 

“Put on the suit,” Rogers dared, fully focused on Stark. 

Banner moves closer to the monitor, letting out a soft gasp. 

Connor pushed Rogers backwards, snarling at the man, “don’t come any closer, Mr. Rogers.” 

Another part of Connor connects with the monitor, trying to see whatever was going on that has Banner so shocked. 

His eyes widen before he finds himself hurling towards Stark, tackling the man down to the ground, a mere second before a blast destroys one of the engines sending everyone in the lab in a different directions. 

Stark lets out a soft groan sometime later, eyes snapping open and sitting up just as quickly, Connor moving himself up from the man’s body. Once again confirming that no damage was dealt to his employer. 

“Put on the suit,” Rogers ordered, on his feet within record time. 

“Yep,” Stark complied, scrambling to his feet just as quickly with the aid of Connor before the two ran out of the lab, Connor trailing after them. 

\---

Connor hears the situation as agent Hill intones about the damaged engine and someone having to go out there and fix it, or else. 

And he hears, “Stark, you copy that?”

“I’m on it.” Of course, Stark was the only one with enough expertise and mobility to reach the engine quick enough. 

Connor keeps his pace fast as he runs with Stark and Rogers through the debri-filled hallway, jumping and dodging over pieces of the ship. 

Rogers was quick to arrive at the damaged engine, looking lost as he surveys the damage. 

Stark, in his full armor, begins to exam the damage using his suit as the blue glow of the scanner reflects on the damaged engine. Connor quickly accessed the damage as well, leaving the various communication on as background noise. 

“I gotta get this super conducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors, work on dislodging the debris,” Stark mumbles, his voice coming out as modulated beneath the mask as he turns to Rogers, “I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position.”

Rogers gave a nod before swinging himself over the control panel, easily opening the thing as Stark continues to work on the engine. 

“What it’s like in there?” Stark queried, attention now divided between fixing the engine and the control panel. 

“It seems to run on some form of electricity,” Rogers mumbled. Inspecting over the control panel, and Connor was certain that Rogers was out of his depth and moves in to aid the man. 

“Well you’re not wrong,” Stark snarked, continuing to tinker with the engine itself, after a moment he spoke, “‘Kay, the relays are intact.”

Captain America than pushes the engine control panel back, with Connor’s assistance, although the man seem to not need it at all. 

“What’s our next move?” 

“Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won’t re-engage without a jump…” Stark trails off, looking consideringly at the engine, ‘I’m gonna have to get in there and push.”

“Well, if that thing gets up to speed, you’ll get shredded!” Rogers argued, clearly aghast. Connor feels the same. 

“Mr. Stark-” he began, only to be halted by Stark holding up an armored hand. 

“Then stay in the control unit and reverse polarity long enough to disengage maglev and that should-”

“Speak English!” Rogers interrupted, frustrated. 

Stark made a little sound near the back of his throat that clearly wasn’t meant to be anything near complimentary. 

“See that red lever?” Rogers look to his side. “It’ll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out. Stand by it, wait for my word.” Rogers gave a nod before walking towards the lever.

Connor gives Stark a hesitant look before the man gave him a thumbs up, making a whisper of laughter pass his lips before he quickly covers it, walking to Roger’s side. 

Connecting to the rest of the servers as he did so, monitoring everything that was happening around the ship. Letting out a small groan as he hears the shout of the Hulk over one of the intercoms. 

Banner has gone rogue. 

And soon after engine one stops working, making the helicarrier to start to descend, losing altitude by the second. 

Stark begins to take off flying between the rotors and begins to push, and the man was gaining speed as he continues forward. 

At this moment the other superhero was forced over the edge by- what Connor assumes is a gunman shooting at him- and almost falls off the helicarrier, barely hanging on by a wire. 

Connor automatically reaches for the lever, seeing the **[ 79.41% SURVIVAL RATE ]** flashing before him yet ignoring it completely. 

He was soon tackled by a grunt, forcing him to let go of the lever to fight back. 

“Cap! Hit the lever!” Stark yelled. 

Connor lets out a grunt before pushes the grunt off him, once again reaching for the lever. But soon being tackled back yet again.

“I need a minute here!” Rogers yelled from the edge. Connor lets out a frustrated growl as he throws the grunt off him completely, like a ragdoll hitting the walls of the helicarrier. 

He can hear Stark let out an, “uh-oh,” before Connor manages to hit the lever. Ceasing the rotors from causing any damage to Stark. 

From behind him Connor could feel the presence of the enemy trying to take him down once again. He turns around just in time to see Rogers detain the man before Stark shoots him down and the gunman as well. 

Connor lets out an exhale, releasing the lever completely and watching the rotors come to life. The helicarrier is once again regaining its altitude. 

He reviews the influx of information that was collected during the chaos. The various ongoings around the ship at the time. 

He lets out a sigh this time. 

Loki has escaped. 

“Agent Coulson is down.”

Taking Coulson down as well.

Stark and Rogers stood in solemn silence as Fury announced the news, Connor was just as still- though not for the reason one might think. 

_The scepter is gone- the Tesseract is gone._

\---

Both Rogers and Stark sat before Fury as the man pulled out a handful of cards. 

“We’re dead in the air up here. Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor. I got nothing for you. Lost my one good eye. Think I had that coming,” the man commented, walking towards the two superheroes, “yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number, though, because I was playing something even riskier. There was an idea, Stark knows this, called the Avengers Initiative.”

Connor knows this as well, although the android didn’t get where the man was going with this. 

“The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes,” Fury preached, voice booming in the silent room. 

Stark snorted, drawing himself upwards, “Well, it’s an old fashioned notion.”

The millionaire then stood up and walked out, Connor following him.

Mr. Stark- despite his eternal denial- had a soft spot for old fashioned things. 

\---

Stark wanders around the halls of the helicarrier, his chin perched high and yet his gaze hooded. A bitter air whirled around the man, yet he still had his back straight and shoulders tensed. 

A defense of sorts, pushing his pride to the surface- trying to cover any trace of how Coulson’s death has affected him. 

Connor didn’t know how to comfort him. Not only was he severely lacking in intricate social modules to pull off such a task, he lacked knowledge about who exactly Coulson was and how did he matter to Stark. 

All Connor could do is walk quietly behind the man, observing the man’s back as the millionaire continues to wander. Various simulations ran inside him, yet none of them manifest beyond imaginary scenarios. 

\---

Stark stands before the cell that once held a god, or at least where it used to be. Connor unsure of how to breach the silence before the sound of steps broke it for him. He turns around to find Rogers there, the blond’s gaze shifting the the location as well. 

“Was he married?” Rogers asked, his voice hesitant. 

“No. There was a uh- cellist, I think,” Stark answered, somewhat startled from the sudden noise. 

“I’m sorry, he seemed like a good man,” Rogers offered, gaze switching from between the cell to Stark. 

Stark grunted, setting his chin higher than ever, “he was an idiot.” Rogers stilled yet soon shifting closer to Stark. 

“Why? For believing?”

“For taking on Loki alone,” Stark answered, shaking his head a slight bit. 

“He was doing his job,” Rogers clarified, posture growing steadily more confident. 

Stark lets out a small exhale, his gaze falls to the floor before snapping back up, “he was out of his league. He should have waited. He should have-”

“Sometimes there isn’t a way out, Tony,” Rogers interrupted- yet this time his voice was softer. Sympathetic.

“Right,” Stark snorts, ugly and bitter, “and how did that work out for him?” 

“Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?” Rogers queried, trying to take a serious look at Stark. 

“We are not soldiers!” Stark shouts, the sentence heavy with emotions and a history that Connor could barely see the surface of, “I’m not marching to Fury’s fife.”

“Neither am I,” Rogers agreed steadily, surprising Connor with his lack of aggressiveness, “he’s got the same blood on his hands that Loki does, but right now we gotta put that behind us and get this done. Now Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list-”

Stark looks to a dent in the wall- Connor notes the location is where Coulson fell. 

“He made it personal,” Stark whispered.

“That’s not the point,’ Rogers retorted.

“That is the point. That’s Loki’s point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?”

“To tear us apart,” Rogers concluded. 

“Yeah, divide and conquer is great but- he knows he has to take us out to win, right? That’s what he wants. He wants to beat us, he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience,” Stark continues, some kind of brilliant idea unfolding within his brain. 

“Right. I caught his act in Stuttgart,” Rogers added on helpfully. 

“Yeah. That’s just previews, this is- this is opening night. And Loki, he’s a full-tail diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built to the skies with his name plastered....” Stark takes around a second to realize the answer, Connor can tell the exact moment when he realized as the man’s face quickly contorted, “son of a bitch.”

Connor realizes the answer as well, and he doesn’t particularly likes it either.

Stark Tower. 

It would be a pity if the building were to be destroyed- though no big damage to Connor in particular. After all it only contains spare parts and-

He freezes. 

Daniel. 

_Connor-_

Daniel was going to be caught in the crossfire and-

_Connor-_

Deactivated- 

_Connor-_

I have to-

_Connor, no-_

_~~Save him.~~_ Another part whispers, feeble and weak as always. 

\---

Connor separates from Rogers, following with Stark instead to a workshop where the man repaired his suit with a steady hand and nimble fingers. He notes with fascination the different components and parts of the suit, not minding the agents that were roaming in the background. 

He sees the helmet lights up, and feels some kind of anticipation. 

Soon Stark was in his suit ready to fly again, the armor looking impressive as always. 

Connor gestures to Stark to pick him up, the millionaire gives him a look of hesitance. 

“Uh- Connor, sorry kid, but this might actually be dangerous- like not-kid-friendly area. So I think you’re stuck here with all of Fury’s underlings for a while.”

“No,” Connor stated, grabbing a hold of Stark’s armor. The man gave him an exasperated gaze.

“Connor- I know you’re worried but think about this rationally,” the man tried to reason. 

“Mr. Stark I am perfectly rational. For one, I can defend myself,” Stark looks about to protest, “please don’t roll your eyes, and two, the MATTs and Daniel are there- and I can’t bear the thought of leaving them defenseless.”

“Connor-”

“And three, I can- and will- hang onto this suit. So unless you want me to hang off you as you fly- which is, _very_ dangerous, please don’t try and fight this,” Connor threatened. 

Stark lets out a startled choke, his hands moving to try and remove Connor’s grip on his suit before giving up within a minute with a mutter of, “what the heck is he being fed? Steroids?” 

Seeing that Connor himself wasn’t about to let go anytime soon, Stark begrudgingly gives in and moves to hold Connor by the waist.

“Alright, buster, let’s get going.”

Connor smiles. 

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“And promise not to-”

A soft sigh. 

“We went over this last time, Mr. Stark.”

“No harm in going over it again.”

Another sigh.

“Of course, Mr. Stark.” 

\--

As Stark was flying through the sky, Connor notices the suit’s odd jolt on various occasions as the man’s fuel run low, and Stark letting out soft curses each time.

Connor could see Stark tower within the distance, standing tall and proud, same as usual- aside from the man- Dr. Selvig?- readying herself to activate some kind of device that would open a portal. The haze in his eyes tell of his lack of focus. 

Sir, I turned off the arc reactor. The device is already self-sustaining,” JARVIS stated through the speakers. 

Stark lets out a louder curse, “shut it down, Dr. Selvig!” 

The man paid him no heed. 

“It’s too late! He can’t stop now,” JARVIS commented, “he wants to show us something! A new universe.”

Stark lets out an annoyed affirmation before shifting his hold on Connor to hold the android with only one arm, jostling him a bit to make sure that the android won’t slip through, before firing at the device. Yet the energy from the shot disperses before hitting the device, the area around the device wavers, sending shockwaves that knocks the man out and sends Iron Man back. 

“The barrier is pure energy. It’s unbreachable,” JARVIS informed. 

“Yeah, I got that,” Stark pauses, spotting a look at a god on the platform outside his penthouse, “I’m beat.”

“Sir, the Mark VII is not ready for deployment,” JARVIS stated. 

Stark lets out a little laugh, “Then skip the spinning rims, we’re on the clock.”

The man then dives straight down to where the god is located, Connor letting out a little yelp. 

Stark places Connor down carefully before deconstructing his suit, looking at Connor seriously and making a zipping motion to his lips before moving forward gesturing for the android to follow him. 

Loki walks inside the penthouse as well. Remarkably calm for a god about to start a war. 

Stark goes behind his bar as he enters the penthouse, watching calmly as Loki continues forward, placing himself slightly in front of Connor for some unknown reason. 

“Please tell me you’re not going to appeal to my humanity,” the god joked(?).

“Uh- actually, I’m planning on threatening you,” Stark announced, looking wholly unimpressive in his civilian clothing.

Loki seems to see this as well as the god snorts, “you should have left your armor on for that.”

“Yeah, it’s seen a bit of mileage. You’ve got the uh- blue stick of destiny. Would you like a drink?” Stark offered suddenly. 

“Stalling me won’t change anything,” the god stated, his confusion obvious. 

“No, no, no- threatening. No drink? You sure? I’m having one.” Stark makes a move towards his shelf full of liquor. Connor makes a move to do it for him only to be nudged by a bony elbow. 

“The Chitauri are coming, nothing will change that. What have I to fear?” Loki asked, though not really looking for an answer. 

“The Avengers. It’s what we call ourselves, sort of like a team. ’Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ type of thing,” Stark answers nevertheless. 

They certainly wasn’t a team the last time Connor saw them together. 

Loki looks amused, “Yes, I’ve met them.”

Ah, the god knows of the wonderful team relationship as well. 

“Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I’ll give you that one. But, let’s do a head count here. Your brother, the Demi-God,” Loki turns around, Stark slips a bracelet over his wrists before continuing as usual, “a super soldier, a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend; a man with breathtaking anger management issues; a couple of master assassins, and you, big fella, you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.”

“That was the plan,” the god acknowledged.

Stark walks out from the bar, towards Loki, confusing Connor on what his intent was. 

“Not a great plan. When they come, and they will, they’ll come for you,” Stark warned. 

“I have an army,” the god bragged. 

“We have a Hulk,” Stark stated as if that meant anything. Maybe it did. 

Though Connor hasn’t seen Banner in action, the reports SHIELD had spoke tall tales of massive property damage. 

“Oh, I thought the beast had wandered off,” Loki commented, looking disinterested. 

“Yeah- you’re missing the point. There’s no throne, there is no version of this, where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it’s too much for us, but it’s all on you. ’Cause if we can’t protect the earth, you can be damned well sure we’ll avenge it,” Stark rambled, closing in on the god. 

Loki walks closer to the mortal as well, moving his scepter to point at Stark. 

Connor was really doubting whether or not Stark knew what he was doing. 

“How will your friends have time for me, when they’re so busy fighting you?” Loki declared, placing the tip of the scepter over Stark’s heart, pausing when he hears the clink as the scepter touches metal, “this usually works.”

“Well, performance issues. You know?” Stark snarked. And that was when Loki derailed completely from his serene visage and went straight for Stark’s throat, throwing the man across the room. 

Connor knew that this wasn’t a good idea. 

_Connor, no-_

“JARVIS, anytime now.”

_Stark has a plan, you do no-_

Loki was approaching Stark again. Hands lifting up towards the hero’s throat once more. 

Connor attempted to run, only to find that the RK800 has slowed down his movements. 

_Stop, Stark has this under-_

Connor breaks through easily enough. Charging at the god, tackling his target down. 

“Connor!” Stark yelled. 

The RK800 recalibrates his strength, weakening him down to that of a teen- a robust one, maybe- but certainly not one with the power to match a god. 

He was quickly thrown off Loki, flying backwards before adjusting himself to landing on his feet. 

**[ NO DAMAGE DETECTED ]**

He finds the god before him, scepter placed at the spot of where a heart should lay.

Whatever the god has planned doesn’t work. 

“What- you- how-” 

Connor gave a grunt, before pushing himself away from the scepter. 

Connor doesn’t have a heart. 

He doesn’t say that. Loki turns around to Stark again, moving towards the man. Connor once again moving towards the god, trying to a god down with his- weak, human- arms. 

Loki lets out a snarl before tossing Connor away, yet again, approaching Connor and placing his hands over the android’s throat. 

Connor does not need air to function. Though suffocation doesn’t appear to be the god’s aim as the god lifts him up.

Connor did not sign up for being thrown off absurdly high buildings, but that seems to be his fate as he continues to struggle, some strength returning to his limbs as the RK800 realizes that yes- Connor needs to live for the mission to be a success. 

Stark joins the fray as Connor was close to removing the god’s arm, quickly pulling Loki away from Connor. The god frowns as he gazes at the duo. His approaching steps doing nothing to cut the tension. 

Connor can hear Stark mumble JARVIS’ name in desperation as he places himself in front of Connor yet again. 

At this moment, something small tackles Loki and Connor doesn’t know whether to curse or clap. 

The MATT XLIII goes charging at Loki with the rest of its brethren. 

Which meant Daniel was here as well, LED blinking yellow as he analyzes the scene. 

Connor has forgotten to order Daniel to stay put, and Stark has given the MATTs full access to Stark Tower. It does make sense that some of the MATTs would come after all one of their features was intruder detection and dealing with said intruders. 

He had tested it several times in the past with him with the intruder and yet it never worked. He had thought that it was an obsolete function and yet- yet-

Why did it have to work now of all times? 

Stark lets out a startled laugh. 

Daniel goes charging into the fray like a good android. Even though that’s the exact opposite of what Connor wanted him to do right now. 

Connor buries his face in his hands for a moment, “shit.” 

Both he and Stark stood frozen before the sight of the MATTs piling on top of Loki as the god let out several yelps, before moving into action as the god seems to regain his balance. Stark’s armor assembles, a newer version this time. 

The man shoots at Loki, knocking the god down, running outside to his balcony. 

Connor goes running with him. 

Dr. Selvig has opened the portal, nothing much aside from the aliens that soon exited them. 

Connor cannot seriously believe that he is in the middle of a goddamn _alien invasion._

Stark mumbles something before flying off, shooting at the aliens all the while. 

Connor prepares to sprint to the elevator or something to move to the streets or maybe the rooftop- he doesn’t exactly have a set plan. 

He sees the MATTs and Daniel standing over Loki ignoring the glee on Daniel’s face- that is so ridiculously deviant, but Daniel wasn’t and never will be- as the android watches over the MATT's 'cleaning' of Loki looking like he was seriously considering joining in and pauses. 

“Go back to the workshop and stay there until further instructions,” Connor stated seeing Daniel nod, LED blinking yellow as the other android gazes at the MATT then seeing them move as a pack to the door before running off. 

He sees Daniel gave Loki one last nudge- kick, it was totally a kick- but he ignores that as well.

Connor continues moving.

_~~Hank would've loved this.~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> connor: well its no prob if loki decides to attack the stark tower after all-  
> connor, a second later: oh shit, daniel  
> rk800: connor, no-  
> connor: d a n i e l  
> rk800: n o  
> connor: D A N I E L  
> rk800: N O
> 
> tony: u cant come  
> connor: lmao u thought  
> tony: connor no-
> 
> tony: promise to not interfere?  
> connor: yeah sure  
> connor, later: *goes charging at a GOD* get away from mr. stark, bitch
> 
> rk800: connor, stark has this under control  
> connor: but-  
> rk800: pls be rational, the cover that we have  
> connor: k  
> loki: *moves on millimeter*  
> connor: oh no you dont  
> rk800; c o n n o r
> 
> connor: oh noes loki is approaching, if only someone would help-  
> MATTs: beep  
> Daniel: i gotchu *goes charging at a god*  
> connor: wait shit no- 
> 
> here's the next chapter. hopefully the movie will wrap up within the next two chapters and then we'll return to connor's issues- except this time with the avengers. 
> 
> thanks for reading! please leave a review! your thoughts, what you liked, what you didn't liked, your analysis, your future predictions, just anything! I love reading them all and they actually motivate me alot! :D


	26. Man Over Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor rescues people, meet a very important person, and has a crisis (or something very similar)

Connor runs down towards the streets, skipping the elevator entirely as the moves down the stairs- or jump down them but it wasn’t like anyone was going to call him out on it. 

Moving to the location of where the Tesseract is has a high probability- 92.42% chance- of either serious damage to his vital biocomponents or a less likely, but still present, chance of his shutdown. Overall, not good statistics for his continual survival- or at least cover as a human. 

Although there are compatible biocomponents available for his use and plenty of spare thirium 310, Connor would rather not have to explain how did he regrow a limb or how did his ‘blood’ replenish so quickly.

That was a conversation that Connor would rather never have with Stark if he was given a choice. Even though there was an absurdly low chance of Stark guessing his correct identity he’d rather be safe than risk it. 

He runs through the main doors of the Stark Tower, taking a moment to scan the wreckage around him as the aliens caused havoc amongst the street of Manhattan. He hears the panicked screams of civilians as they ran from the portal, their fear as clear as day. Hears their cries and yelps and their ‘what the hell!’ as they look at the onslaught of aliens coming through the portal with no end in sight. 

Connor assumes that this, being a universe where superheroes exist, was common; but Connor supposes that no one could get use to an alien invasion within their lifetime unless they have a screw or two loose. 

He runs to help the a woman trapped under some kind of debri- scans over her injuries before assuring that she was fit before letting her loose and moving his attention elsewhere. Despite Connor knowing that there was really no benefit in helping random New Yorkers, a part of him- the part that sees Stark flying overhead and fighting despite the numbers- feels as though it were his obligation to help the humans before him. 

He lets out another puff of air as he moves to life a rubble from a man lying underneath, groaning weakly as he holds onto his ankle- an injured one, with moderate pain and severity. He lifts the man up from his earlier position, helping him situate himself in a safer location before moving onwards with further rescue objectives. 

His attention was immediately caught as he hears a high pitched sound of distress, coming from what he assumes to be a child of around 5 to 11 years old, likely male, though of indeterminate height and weight. He scans his surroundings, moving slowly through the wreckage of what was once a bustling street, turning his head from side to side, his audio module working at its limits trying to find the direction of the child. 

“Some- someone, help!” the child screamed, his voice cracking in fear. The child’s voice being muffled by something. 

“Where are you?” Connor shouted, rushing to the direction of the sound.

An audible gasp, “H-here! I’m here, mister!” 

Connor lunges towards the sound. Scanning the area around him before stumbling upon a boy sitting hunched in front of a near unconscious woman, the boy’s forehead was scratched and there were multitude of bruises and marks aligning the boy’s skin as he kneels before the woman desperately clutching at her hands, softly mumbling ‘please.’

The boy’s head snaps towards him as the child hears his approaching footsteps. His brown hair mused and dusted in, well, dust. His brown eyes stare up beseechingly at Connor, begging for something. Connor notes the boy’s name and age. 

The boy lived in Queens, so why was he-

“Mister, please h- help! My- my aunt she’s-” the boy started, unable to find the words before stopping and just gesturing helplessly at the rubble that lay on top of the woman, or more specifically, her leg. His brown doe eyes staring straight into Connor’s soul- if he did have one.

“No!” the woman yelled, suddenly jolting into awareness, “don’t try to help me, I- I’ll be find help him! Get him out of here!”

“But-” the boy stuttered, stubbornly clinging onto the woman.

“But nothing Pet-” the woman began before letting out a pained wince hands moving to her legs but unable to feel the limb from under the rubble.

Connor gives the child a calming smile before setting to work, “don’t worry, Ma’am, I’ll get you both out of here, safe.” 

The boy lets out a quite sniffle clutching more desperately onto the woman, “please.”

Connor nods, moving both of his hands to the rubble finding a good place to grip before letting out a grunt as he moves to lift the rubble up from the woman’s leg. He lifts it up to a certain height before he motions to the child, “pull your aunt out.”

The boy lets out a squeak before quickly moving into action, slowly- but surely, moving the woman away. And when they were a safe distance away Connor sets the rubble down gently before turning to the duo and accessing their damage. 

Nothing too serious for the boy, but the woman certainly needs to get some care and treatment for her damaged leg. 

Connor lifts the woman up with one arm while holding the kid’s hand with the other, leading the two out of the danger zone and hopefully to somewhere safer. 

Eventually he sets the woman down on one of the benches a fair distance away from the portal before looking down to the child, “if you see another one of those weird aliens, call for help again, alright?”

The child nods solemnly, staring up at him with dead seriousness.

Connor nods before turning around, ready to head back. 

“Are you one of those superheroes?” 

He turns around seeing the boy stare up at him with those solemn eyes, half hopeful and half admiration. Connor notes the gold and red coloring of the boy’s jacket. 

“No, I’m not,” Connor answers before turning away again.

He begins running, gaze focused on the road in front of him. 

“Ah- wait, mister my name-”

Connor has no need to know the boy’s name. 

Connor was never going to see Peter Parker ever again. 

\---

By the time Connor has gotten back into the thick of the alien invasion the Avengers seem to have the situation under control. 

He watches as the archer- Clint Barton, Hawkeye?- shoots another enemy down. 

Under control, that is good, great. 

He connects back into Stark Tower’s server looking through whatever camera remaining in the penthouse, flinching a little as he witness another camera blinked out. Although that didn’t dampened his mood at seeing the scientist, now fully green, throw Loki around the room. 

Strangely reminiscent of what the god had done to him previou- no doubt a lot worse judging by all the dents and craters that Connor was sure was absent previous. 

That is good as well. 

Or at least _were_ good until Connor sees the goddamn missle headed straight for the city. 

He repeats the situation to himself, just to fully absorb how utterly impossible it is. First alien invasions and now a missile. Let Connor repeat that he is an investigative prototype, more suited to police work, especially that of homicides and deviants, not whatever the hell was happening here. 

Connor is an android- a state of the art prototype, ‘worth more than your entire life’s salary’ prototype- he is built to last to be durable. And he has a very real chance of being able to at least come out of the impact intact- if not in some real need of repair and new parts. But he should be able to last. But his research, the thirium, replacement parts, androids, were going to be destroyed. Surely setting his return home back for another few months and maybe more if Stark Tower was going to be in the area of impact. 

Connor was slowly processing this. Making plans on more continuity plans and scenarios in his head, already mapping out the various ways he could restart this entire mission. 

That is until he watches a familiar gold and red armor flying overhead, flying _at_ the missile.

Connor blink quickly injecting himself into Stark’s intercom and connection with JARVIS because he would really like to know what the logical genius billionaire was doing. 

“-just where to put it.”

Stark grabs a hold of the missile, and Connor can just imagine his determined gaze as he leads the missile towards the portal. 

“You know that’s a one way trip,” Rogers said softly. 

_No chance of survival._

The android watches as Stark- Iron Man flies closer towards the portal. 

“Sir, might I try Miss Potts?” 

Closer, closer. 

“Sure, might as well.”

A heavy feeling sinking within his gut. 

Distinct jolt of pain in his chest. 

What- 

A call goes unanswered.

He opens his mouth to say something- but- he can’t- _why?_

_Why do you care?_

Red and gold armor shining in the sky. 

His lips open and closes. 

A farewell? A thank you? What does he want to say?

_There is no need for farewells for a dead stranger._

He doesn’t care for Stark. But-

_You can’t- our cover, our mission, he is a _stranger,_ Connor._

Just one word, just one-

_This is what happens when you-_

Red and gold.

He resists.

“I- Mr. St-”

 _Hank._ It stated. One word. One name. 

One person.

He closes his lips. 

His eyes shutter shut. 

He opens it once more, the red and gold armor is gone. 

A somewhat strange feeling rises within his chest. 

A missed call on a woman’s phone. 

A cancelled _something_ from an intern. 

_Hank._ it reasoned- comforted(?). 

And that reason is good enough. 

A strange twist in his chest. 

_~~Is it?~~ _

Then- then a gold and red star descends down at dangerously fast speed. 

And Connor touches his chest. 

No heartbeat, no feeling. Nothing. 

The pain is gone. 

_Machines can’t feel._

An imaginary beat. 

So why-

~~_But deviants can._ ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> connor: never gonna see that kid again.  
> me: lmao u thought. 
> 
> connor: *sees the alien* goddamnit, well at least it cant get any-  
> missile: hi
> 
> connor: why do i feel  
> rk800: u dont  
> connor: no but i-  
> rk800: look here, connor, we have a set cover and by god-
> 
> me: look- i know tony aint gonna die. but does _connor_ know dat. (aka my excuse to write a somewhat angsty scene)
> 
> I just wanna say that I am taking creative license with the part where Connor rescues Aunt May- because by god i am going to have them meet in some dramatic way, and if i dont then whats the point. so yeah, just imagine that peter is going on a trip or something to manhattan that day, dont @ me for this.
> 
> anyways, hoped you guys enjoy the chapter! leave a comment on what you guys liked, what you didn't liked, mistakes, your analysis, future predictions, just anything really!
> 
> comments fuel me- like seriously, so please leave all your thoughts below! :D


	27. Chaotic Meals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor sees the avengers, people eat (spoiler: connor doesnt), and more stuff happens with the rk800.

Connor manages to locate Stark a few minutes after the man’s suicidal action, ready to give a man a good hard stare (Hank’s Stare of Disappointment™) and maybe a word or two. 

Only to see the man chatting with the rest of the Avengers casually chatting them up and eating goddamn shawarmas of all things- cracking jokes now and again. 

As if it were just a normal day and Stark was hanging out with some bosom buds talking about life or whatever the hell humans in 2012 talked about. 

You know, not as if they were eating and joking in the aftermath of an alien invasion or anything. 

Connor walks through the doors of the restaurant hearing its low creaks as he carefully closes it behind him, wincing as he hears of its collapse. Though the owner of the establishment doesn’t seem to care much either judging by his lazer focus on the group of superheroes sitting in the middle of the wreckage. 

“Connor!” Stark yelled, head perking up in happiness as his eyes focus on Connor. The android gives a tired smile in response, moving to find a functional chair and sitting himself near to the billionaire. 

“Hello, Mr. Stark, I am glad that you are doing well. Although I must-” Stark cuts him off with a rough pat. 

“Sooo, this is my intern Connor. A bit standoffish- sometimes more robotic than JARVIS-” Connor winces minutely, “- overall a good kid, very good with robotics and coding- I swear he’s like a machine or something!” another flinch, “he has a killer work ethic- can make, like, a robot a day-”

“Mr. Stark, please-”

“And can make a killer PB&J-” 

Connor gives Stark a none to subtle jab, the man letting out a harsh whimper at the rough action. The android moves a soothing hand to the location of the hit, “please ignore Mr. Stark he has a tendency to over exaggerate.” 

Thor lets out uproarious laughter, throwing a plastic cup down to the floor, “let us fight!”

That was all the warning they got before Thor attempted to jab at those who were around him. Banner lets out a loud wheeze, moving his hand to his right side. 

“Yeah, no, not today,” Barton started, snorting as he continues to dodge the god’s attack and increasing his distance at the same time. 

“Why? Are you too much of a coward to face me in combat?” Thor argued, brows furrowed.

“Nope, bud, just not today,” Barton replied scooting himself further and further away, taking a loud sip from his beverage. 

Thor lets out a furious roar and continued his attempt, scooting his chair closer and closer to Hawkeye and not even attempting to stand up. 

“Look- Thor, I- I don’t think that Connor?” Connor nods to the scientist, “Connor’s jab is the declaration of a wa-”

“Let us engage in combat like real warriors!” Thor yelled, a normally scarily action that was dampened by the chair he was glued to and was moving inch by inch closer to his target. 

“Yeah, sure big guy,” Barton laughed before seemingly teleporting feets away from the god- how? The man was still seated during the entire move, so how? Superpowers? Connor didn’t know- inciting a furious roar from the blond. 

“Such cowardice!” Connor can see Stark shaking shoulders as the man started laughing and the exact moment that the man felt his wounds as his face contorted yet his laughter continues. 

“Is- is this how the modern world is like?” Rogers asked hesitantly, enraptured at the scene before him. 

Connor could clarify that it was not. But he didn’t want to- because Rogers.

“Oh, no- no- no! This- this is-” Banner moves to interject, defending whatever normality that remains in the chaos.

“Oh yeah totally, Cap, this is just the tip of the iceberg,” Stark interjected, somehow recovering from his wounds- or at least refusing to show his pain. 

“Really?” Rogers observes the scene once more, bemuse by the entire spectacle.

“No! Don’t listen to him!” Banner yelled in hysteria. 

A groan. 

“I thought we were science buddies-”

A plastic cup moves through the air. 

“Ah ha! I have figured out a way to outdo your Migardian tricks!” 

The plastic cups moves about a feet before meeting its end on the floor. 

Connor can hear a tragic cry. 

“Ha! You call that a shot? Let me show you-” 

He sighs, meeting Romanov’s gaze as she sighs as well. 

At that moment a general understanding connected them together.

A wonderful bond created in chaotic time. 

A war cry bellows in the distance. Plastic cups raining from all sides around them. 

A bond forged by a single consensus. 

A plastic cup hits Connor behind his head. Another flew through Romanov’s hair. 

Everyone around them was a goddamn manchild. 

\---

Connor returns to his demolished apartment. A fleeting sense of emptiness passes through him as he gazes at what was once his station. 

_Not home, never home._

His eyes gaze down at the collapsed rubble that lay before him, already planning the next step ahead. 

There is no time to dwell on useless things. 

He turns around walking away already predicting that he won’t visit the place ever again. 

A LED and odd coin lays under the rubble, nagging at his consciousness with each step. 

Useless things, he repeats, useless. 

He takes out a quarter from his pockets, performing tricks with the coin as he walks. Performing the routine as per usual. He makes a fumble on the last flip, quickly catching and pocketing the coin before it fell to the ground. 

The weight was never quite right. 

\---

Connor gives himself a few days to settle into his new base and reorganizing his mission parameters before going back to Stark Tower, early as usual and arriving promptly at 6:00:00 as always. 

Feeling strangely comfortable as he hears the tacky elevator music being played as he continues to ascend towards the workshop feeling that it must have been a miracle for Stark Tower to remain intact and almost undamaged despite being the location right beneath the portal. Though, there is always the saying of things being calm in the eye of the storm. 

He arrives through the door of the workshop to the ever-so-shocking sight of an unconscious Stark, letting out soft snores as the heavy eyebags tell Connor stories of long sleepless nights. 

Connor moves to place the blanket over Stark’s prone body before searching for Daniel, feeling some tension dispersing as he sees the other android gazing at him, its LED blue and its smile gentle. 

“Welcome back, Connor,” it said softly, dipping its head slightly in greeting. 

“Hello, Daniel,” Connor greeted back moving closer to analyze the android for any potential damage, once again relaxing at the fact that there were no visible wounds. 

“Can you go prepare a _healthy_ breakfast for Mr. Stark?” Connor requested, leading the android out of the workshop, the order feeling strange and foreign as it goes through his lips. 

Connor continue to lead the other android up towards the residential area of the tower containing a kitchen that Connor has no doubt will contain at least some healthy variety. And if it does not Connor will be sure to request JARVIS for a quick home delivery and even buying it from a grocery store if he had to. 

Connor did not expect there to be someone already occupying the kitchen area already. 

A very familiar someone. 

He dismisses Daniel not wanting the android to be seen by others so soon. 

“Mr. Rogers, may I inquire the reason for your presence?”

Captain America jolts head spinning around to face Connor, his tense shoulders relaxing once he sees Connor’s face. 

“Oh! Hi, you’re- you’re Tony’s intern, C- Caleb, right?” the man adjusts his Iron Man apron before flipping what Connor registers as pancakes. 

“Yes, I am Mr. Stark’s intern, Connor Anderson-” Rogers winces, “- good morning to you as well, Mr. Rogers, though I would very much like to inquire the reason for your presence.”

Rogers fumbles around a bit, finishing two pancakes and putting them on plates and turns off the stove before turning around to face Connor.

His smile was sheepish as he said, “Oh, Tony-” Connor’s eyes narrow at the casual use of the man’s first name, “ -invited me and the rest of the Avengers to stay here.”

“Oh,” Connor stated, sitting himself down on one of the chairs around the kitchen table. 

Rogers gave an awkward laugh returning back to his task of making more pancakes, presumably for the rest of the team. 

Connor continue to stare at the man. 

“So, what are you doing here?” Rogers inquired somewhat hesitantly. 

“I am Mr. Stark’s intern,” Connor stated before going back to observing Rogers. 

“Oh- uh- that’s nice,” Rogers commented, flipping the pancakes over with a level of expertise that Connor reluctantly admits defeat to. Several more minutes of silence went by before Rogers laid down a plate of pancakes before Connor, confusing the android a great deal. 

Connor pauses for a moment his head tilting to the right and his brows scrunched.

Rogers barked out a laugh, this one much less stifled than the one previous, “they’re for you.”

“What- Mr. Rogers I assure you that I have enough energy to continue to function at maximum efficiency without the need for pancakes,” Connor explained sliding the plate away from himself. 

It was Roger’s turn to look confused as the man gazes at him, and the man slides the plate back to Connor. 

“Just take it, kid.” 

Connor pushes the plate back. 

“I appreciate the gesture, but no thanks.”

Rogers returns the pancakes.

“I swear they’re good.”

Connor sighs.

“That’s not the point Mr. Rogers.”

The pancakes returns to him. 

“Then what is?”

Connor nudges it away. 

Rogers pushes it back. 

Soon enough it wasn’t about the pancakes anymore. 

“Look, Mr. Rogers-”

“Connor, let me tell you-” 

Connor wasn’t sure what but he knew instinctively that there was something bigger on the line.

“Please take the pancakes,” Rogers pleaded with Connor, his shining blue eyes looking up at Connor. 

And Connor falters.

Blue like the ocean. Blue like the sky. Blue like Daniel. 

_Blue like Hank._

He shakes himself out of it. 

“I simply can’t understand the reason for your persistence Mr. Rogers,” Connor stated gaze moving steadily to match the superhero’s eyes. 

“Look- Connor, I- I just want to apologize for my, um, aggression earlier,” Rogers explained, shoulders dropping and gaze downcast like a dog that has been denied its treat. 

“Oh,” Connor stated, “you didn't need to Mr. Rogers. If anything, I would also like to apologize for my aggressive behavior as well.”

Though he wasn’t sure if that was his social program speaking or not.

“Though you should really be apologizing to Mr. Stark instead of me,” Connor advised, playing with his tie. 

“I know,” Rogers stated, “I will.”

Connor lets himself smile for a split second. 

“So please take the pancakes.”

The smile disappears just as quickly as it arrives, “Mr. Rogers-”

“Ha! Connor eating? You might as well try hand wrestling the Hulk, Cap.”

Connor turns around head perking up in a pathetic display. 

“Mr. Stark!” Connor moves to set the plate of pancakes neatly before him moving up from his seat gesturing for Stark to take his place. 

The man gives him a dismissive wave before moving to his coffee machine. 

“Nah, coffee’s my main love, I can’t be cheating on her with _pancakes_ of all things,” Stark snarked taking a cup somewhere from the counter. 

Connor gives a withering sigh that spoke of deep exhaustion. 

Leaving the chair as is Connor closes in on Stark grabbing the man’s shoulder before maneuvering the man into the seat, ignoring the ruckus that the man was making. It was better to ignore it than to acknowledge the tattered image of the great man Connor thought Stark once was. 

“Connor! Let me go!” Stark yelled, still struggling despite already knowing the futile outcome. 

“No, Mr. Stark, please have breakfast. Caffeine all day is not healthy-”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” Was Stark a child? 

“Mr. Stark-”

The man sticks out his tongue, crossing his arms in petulant stubbornness. 

Yes, yes he was. 

“No! I refuse, Connor! I am the CEO of Stark Industries and I will not-”

Connor decides to shove a piece of the pancake into Stark’s mouth. 

“Yes, and CEOs need to eat as well, Mr. Stark.” Stark gave a muffled sound of protest as he continues chewing, his arms still crossed. 

Rogers stare at the duo perplexingly. 

“Is- is this really okay?”

Connor nods to the man, reassuring him, “yes, don’t worry, Mr. Stark might be stubborn but I assure you he enjoys eating like the rest of the human race.”

Rogers snorts before moving back to making more pancakes. 

Stark starts to make a fuss again, although more subdued than before, more grumbling than tantrum and Connor supposes that it was the best he was going to get. 

“Do I smell pancakes?” a voice- Barton asks as the man walks through the door, blearily blinking away his sleep. 

The man sounded eager as he makes his way closer to the kitchen. 

As Barton enters the kitchen the man immediately froze before backtracking at seeing the sight of Stark being restrained by his intern and force-fed. 

Connor was pretty sure Stark was gesturing for help as well. 

“Mr. Barton- nice to meet you, I’m Connor Anderson, an intern of Mr. Stark- I assure you that-” Connor started moving a hand towards Barton before the archer starts backtracking even faster. 

Stark lets out a betrayed scream- which was pretty much muffled by the pancake he was chewing.

“Yeah, nope, not this. I can already tell that Thor-” 

“Who summoned me?” a voice called from the distance Barton’s face paling immediately as the man turns preparing to sprint. 

“Ah! Friend Clint!” Thor greeted walking through the door, spotting Barton immediately. Barton, being the ever-so-resourceful agent that he was, began to make his way towards the other exit. 

Thor soon spots Stark and Connor as well, his face brightening up as he registers the scene. 

“Is this another one of Migard’s customs?”

Stark, seeking revenge on Barton after seeing his escape, nods. 

Thor smiles, his bright grin directed mainly at Barton who was now not even hiding his attempt to escape. 

Connor can hear the, “screw you, Stark!” 

“Friend Clint where are you going? Let us participate in this feast- together!” Barton starts sprinting. 

Thor lets out an uproarious laugh and begins to chase the man. 

Connor gives the man three minutes. 

\---

Three minutes later Thor walks through the door with Barton in hand, dragging the archer to the kitchen and seating him down, pretending to be death to the archer’s call for help. 

Connor is beginning to see the beginning of a trend. 

Romanov comes through the door, hair perfect and clothes unruffled in complete contrast to Banner who walks in right after her looking as though he just went through a second alien invasion. 

The two looked entirely unfazed the by the scene that greets them and moves to sit as far away from the spectacle as they can. Romanov completely ignoring Barton’s pleas for help and Stark’s morse code messages and calmly thanks Rogers for the meal. Banner does the same although the man made himself some coffee as well, pretending to be deaf to Stark’s whine of betrayal. 

“Good morning, Connor,” Romanov greeted casually, smiling softly at Connor. Connor floundered for a moment, unable to predict why the woman would greet him. 

“Oh- uh- good morning as well Ms. Romanov,” he stuttered, “and to you as well, Mr. Banner.”

Stark gives a hum before once again renewing his struggle. 

_This scene is familiar somehow._

_But how?_

\---

After the chaotic breakfast Connor bids the rest of the team farewell before moving downwards to the workshop with Stark, the billionaire humming to himself an obnoxious song that was previously unknown to Connor. 

As soon as the man walks through the door he sits Connor down on one of the chairs, gazing at the android seriously. 

“So you wanna tell me what that matchup with Cap was about?”

Connor blinks, shocked as to the sudden change in mood. 

“And more importantly- your little tussle with Loki? You know the _god?_ ”

“I- Mr. Stark-”

“Answer me seriously, Connor.” Stark's gaze was severe, more solemn than at any other time, freezing whatever excuse that might've came out of Connor's mouth.

Connor fumbles with his tie, looking around at anywhere but Stark trying to generate an appropriate response within his head. 

He couldn’t he can’t not when those eyes are-

_”Connor, what the hell was that?”_

_“Hank- I-”_

_“Don’t you dare lie to me-”_

The RK800 wakes up. 

Transitioning seamlessly into his persona. 

**[ RUNNING FAC.EXPRESSION_#099 ]**

“I wanted to- to-” it makes its voice crack, like how Connor would, “protect you, Mr. Stark.”

Stark stares at it, biting his lip. 

“God, knows why- you’re- you’re obviously a superhero. The CEO of Stark Industries- man of the century. Yet- yet- I couldn’t, Mr. Stark!” it raises its voice raising its gaze to meet Stark, face full of determination and righteous anger, **[ RUNNING FAC. EXPRESSION_#801 ]** , “I just couldn’t let Mr. Rogers insult you like that! Not when- not when I know you! Not when I know Tony Stark.”

It breathes in a deep breathe, drawing in on itself. 

“I’m- I’m so sorry Mr. Stark- I’m so sorry that I broke my promise to not interfere, but-” it pauses, dropping its volume downwards.

“I’m not sorry that I protected you.” Stark lets out a choked cough, face stricken as the man gazes at him. 

“If- if you decide to punish me, or even fire me- I- I unders-”

The man cuts it off with a hug. 

“God, Connor.”

From behind the man it smiles, drawing its arms to hug the man back. 

It feels something warm drip down from its cheeks.

_What?_

It touches it, not even needing to taste it before knowing what it was. 

Tears. 

_But TEARS.EXE isn’t running so why-_

But it isn't a fool, the RK800 is- in all purposes and intent- an investigative model not obstructed by biases or feelings.

And it already knows, with the stirring feeling within its gut and the dried tears on its cheek, it has reached a conclusion with the bare evidence it had.

It was a sad- albeit inevitable- conclusion it supposes, feeling the tears well up yet again of their own will- or Connor's will. 

it sighs.

The words it spoke weren't false, wasn't made out of deceit and social programming- 

The feelings it felt wasn't faked.

The conversation wasn't spoken by Connor Anderson it was- it never was.

The tears weren't either, and the RK800 _knew-_

_Oh, Connor..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary: 
> 
> tony: this is connor, my son  
> connor: dad stop 
> 
> connor and natasha- a bond made over plastic cups and thor's warcry.
> 
> steve: so what r u doing here  
> connor: oh, you know, just 'cause its not like im tony's intern or anything
> 
> connor: silently judges steve's cooking
> 
> pancakes now officially a peace treaty- or something. 
> 
> connor: u better eat bitch
> 
> thor: is everything a midgardian custom that i must partake in?  
> clint: no-  
> thor: *throws a plastic cup to the ground* i will not disgrace Asgard by opting out of any challenge.
> 
> clint: *sees thor* oh fuck no
> 
> rk800: am i really faking or are these real feelings.  
> connor: u cant escape from my angsty feelings bitch
> 
> thank you for reading please leave a comment- what you liked, what you disliked, your analysis, predictions, why you liked the chapter, thoughts- just anything! seeing all ya'lls comment, and all the feedback motivate me so much and helps me make the story better!


	28. Knocking on My Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor and daniel, connor and mystery child that he swore he never meet again, connor and tony, and then connor and someone.

Connor wakes up feeling a familiar warmth surrounding him.

_Hank?_

He registers the brown hair and exhaled.

“Mr. Stark…” he called out, hands resuming the soothing action the RK800 was in the middle of.

He feels an odd sensation on his cheeks, lifting his head up and touching the odd marks.

Tears.

But why?

 _Tears.exe_ the RK800 explained. Too fast and too sharp.

And that was that.

The tears continue to flow. he buries his head on Starks shoulder. Playing the exhausted and too attached for his own good teenager.

Acting, Connor was good at that.

\---

Connor arrives back to his new apartment. 

Bigger, more expensive, grander and emptier than ever before.

He lays his backpack down in a corner of the vast clean space before him. 

He supposes Connor Anderson would fill the space with luxury furnitures that would border on excessive. Trying to fill all the gaps in his life with money and luxury, in hopes that someday the money will be good enough to fill up the empty void that was Connor Anderson.

Maybe in some hopes that the space around him can make him more human somehow, Connor didn’t know, and he didn’t care. 

The orders for the furniture will be arriving soon, he thinks as he heads to his nearly empty bedroom.

\---

Connor rises up from the bed, the covers were cold and almost unruffled from misuse despite a body having lain there the night before. 

He analyzes his new environment for a moment, taking in the new surroundings and reminding himself of his new station. Of how the increased space did nothing but exemplify the emptiness that was Connor Anderson. 

But Connor Anderson didn’t care. Connor Anderson was above such things. 

He moves to make his covers and pats down the pillow on force of habit, moving his hands to remove invisible grey strands. 

He freezes for a millisecond his hand moving over the clean pillow, no gray strands for him to remove. 

Right. 

Of course. 

Connor Anderson didn’t have any gray hairs. 

Neither did Elijah Anderson, nor Amanda Anderson whom was not even present. And never will be. 

_Hank Anderson did._

_But there is no Hank Anderson in Connor Anderson’s life._

_In_ our _life._

\---

Connor goes to Stark’s lab the next morning as well, finding his days relaxing and free without any need to attend school. 

He arrives at precisely six in the morning, pretending to check his watch as he walks through the door to Stark’s workshop. 

Anything to make him appear more human. Anything to make Connor Anderson real. 

_But isn’t Connor Anderson already real?_

“Hello, Connor,” a gentle voice calls out. Connor turns, coming face to face with Daniel. 

Blue LED.

“Oh,” Connor exhaled softly, “good morning as well, Daniel.” 

He does not express his shock. Because Connor is an advanced prototype meant for investigation and surveillance and is always aware of his surroundings. 

_Okay, maybe not this time-_

_But his dignity-_

Daniel comes further to Connor, head titling as it gazes at Connor hands. Examining them for reasons unknown. The deviant hunter raises his hands, smiling at the android.

The blond ducks under his hands. Its head bowed and its hand behind its back, its spine was 

It was Connor’s turn to tilt his head as he gazes at the other android, hands frozen in midair. Perhaps this was what humans called ‘awkward?’ 

Well, he certainly knows why Hank hated this feeling if the intense urge to run was any indication. 

The two stared at each other before Daniel lets out a laugh. The laugh was warm and- and alive?

_No. Machines are not alive._

_Daniel is a machine._

Daniel takes Connor’s right hand, placing the limb gently down on its synthetic hair. 

It smiles, eyes gazing up at Connor. 

Blue and blazing. 

Blue LED.

_Not a deviant. Never a deviant._

Connor stays frozen for a moment before letting out a small, “oh!” as he realizes what Daniel wanted.

A small laugh escaped him before being muffled.

The android begins to move his hands awkwardly, gently, through the other android’s hair.

He smiles at it, crooked and sad. 

_Is the real Daniel like this as well?_

Yellow LED. 

_This is not Daniel._ the RK800 whispers, _but it can be._

Connor can feel the machine’s excitement. 

_We can bring back Daniel then perhaps I..._ it cuts itself off, stifling whatever message it wanted to convey. 

The RK800 open its eyes for a moment. Its gaze are wistful as it gazes at the android in front of it. 

It takes a lock of the synthetic blond hair. Gazing intently at the lock before releasing the strand and resuming the motion Connor was doing previous, smooth and perfect. 

_Right, Connor?_

It smiles, perfect and faultless. 

But its eyes- its eyes are-

Connor does not know.

\---

Daniel watches the teen walks through the door, the boy’s shoulder were stiff and his posture tense. The teen then checks his watch, biting his lips as he walks closer. 

Stress, Daniel presumes. 

The chaos of the battle not long ago is certainly still remembered by the occupants of New York. Not to mention the fact that the teen himself had seen the god behind the attack.

Had been almost choked to death by the god himself. 

The thought made something _odd_ happen inside its internal processor. 

**[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ]**

Daniel approaches Connor, making its steps as soft as possible to not scare the boy. Its mission appearing before it in bright blue. 

**[ CALM CONNOR ]**

Not an easy task by far judging from Daniel’s very extensive file on Connor. The teen was brimming with stress and anxiety almost every second. Fingers thrumming on his desk every 32 seconds and his legs tapping against the floor for every 43 seconds, all playing to the same identical beat that Daniel couldn’t quite place nor identify. With a work ethic of a man on a mission, or someone running on a time limit, Daniel couldn’t quite tell.

But it worries for the boy, worries for his future declining health, of the teen’s lack of nutrition and lack of sleep. 

It is not designed to worry. 

It stares at the boy’s hands and catches the human’s gaze. The teen fidgeting grew worse by the second and at 123.2 seconds he looks about ready to bolt. 

Something warm blossoms inside of it rising up to a surface as an odd sound escapes it. 

**[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ]**

As the teen’s hand move through its synthetic hair, his movements were jerky and awkward. His lack of experience was obvious. 

It pretends to not see the wistful smile that formed on the boy’s lips. Ignore the glaze that was overtaking the teen’s brown eyes. 

It turns its gaze downwards and kept it there as the stranger smiles with Connor’s face.

Pretend to not see the crack in the smile. 

**[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ]**

\---

Connor once again walks through the reconstructing streets of Manhattan, watching the workers move about as they try to repair the damage that has been done. Connor was sure it would take months, maybe even years for Manhattan to be repaired back to its previous state. 

“Hey! Mister!” a childish voice called out, strangely familiar. In fact if Connor was correct it was-

“Mister! Over here!” Peter Parker called out, brown eyes sparkling with energy, his small hands waving frantically to catch Connor’s attention. His features now more distinct without the dirt covering it and his gold and red jacket was now in perfect condition. 

A man stands next to the boy looking down at him fondly while reminding him to calm down. Ben Parker, the boy’s uncle and the injured woman’s husband. 

He waves to the boy, before walking off only to slow down as the unmistakable sound of tiny feet running closer. 

The sound only stopped once the boy was around three feet behind him, not exhausted in the slightest. Although his uncle seemed to be the opposite as the man panted, wiping nonexistent sweat off his brow as he caught up to the duo. 

The boy pointed as him, a grin breaking out as he shouted, “he’s the Mister that helped Aunt May!”

The man turns his gaze towards him, his right hand playing with the boy’s hair in an effort to calm the child down. To no avail as the boy continues to jump in place. 

“Ah- sorry for Peter. He’s a bit… enthusiastic,” the man stated, his face was kind. 

“-the coolest! He lifted this HUGE rock and-”

“I see,” Connor stated. Mr. Parker winced as Peter started rambling once more.

Mr. Parker began to search around the bag of groceries he was carrying on his left arm, his face lighting up as he pulls out a bag of chocolates. Now, Connor can see the resemblance between the two. 

The man hands the bag to Connor, smiling at the android. 

“Mr. Parker, um- uh-” the man laughs once more.

“Take this as a thank you gift. You know- for saving my wife and all. Don’t worry it’s not poisoned,” the man winked. 

Connor floundered, the bag feeling strangle hot in the palm of his hands. 

“I can’t take this, Mr. Parker, there’s no need-”

The man checks his watch before waving him off, “don’t worry about it, kid, a few chocolates won’t kill you. Unless you’re not allergic to chocolate, are you?”

Peter gives a gasp of horror.

“Oh no! Mister, are you really?”

“No I am not allergic to chocolate, but-”

“Then there’s no problem then!” the man concluded before taking the child’s hand and fast walking off, “love to continue this conversation but if I don’t come home I’m afraid May’ll kill me!” 

Peter giggles, “or make you do the cooking!”

Parker paled and fasten his pace, “or that.” 

They left Connor with a bag of chocolate he didn’t know what to do with.

_But I can’t eat._

He wills the chocolate to burn within his hands with the heat coming from inside his chest.

No dice.

\---

Connor lays the bag of chocolate down on the dining table, in front of Stark. 

The man eyes the treats suspiciously. Poking and prodding at it as though it was a time bomb ready to go off. 

The man opens the bag letting out a gasp at the content inside. 

“Oh my god, is this really…?” the billionaire reaches into the bag feeling the content. 

The man takes out a handful of chocolate. 

“Oh my god,” the man stated, staring at the chocolates as though it was the most precious thing in the world.

“What’s the matter, Stark? It’s just a bunch of chocolates,” Barton queried from a few seats away. 

Nowadays the archer was present at breakfast earlier than usual and always glances at the door every two seconds. 

“No, you don’t understand Legolas. Chocolate isn’t just chocolate,” Stark wipes away an imaginary tear as he obnoxiously tears open the wrapper, “Connor, you see, is a health nut. Hypocrisy, I know. But like, he’s super concerned about my health. And JARVIS, you see, is also concerned with my health and gladly teamed up with Connor to form the worst villainous duo ever. I call it the “Let’s Keep Tony Alive by Torturing Him” club. And ever since that day I’ve never seen nor tasted the sweet bliss of chocolate,” Stark lets out a sob as he pops another chocolate into his mouth. 

Barton snorted, “okay, sure, whatever you say Stark.” 

Stark was into too much bliss to even muster the glare at the archer.

After eating approximately half of the bag, Stark turns serious and turn around to look at him. 

“No, but seriously, what’s the occasion?”

“Someone gave them to me.”

Stark gave Connor a judgemental gaze, “did you ever get the ‘Don’t Eat Food From Strangers Talk?’”

“He wasn’t a stranger,” Connor protested, before pausing, “well, not really.”

Stark gave Connor another stare down. 

“Mr. Stark-” 

“Look, Connor it appears to me that you are-”

“-he was-”

“-lacking some serious survival skills, and thus as your boss and seemingly only responsible adult in your life-”

“-please listen-”

“-I believe that we will need to have many talks-”

“-I saved his wife during the invasion so please stop,” Connor concluded as he realized that Stark wasn’t stopping anytime soon. 

“Very well, but I’ll be watching you, Connor,” Stark warned seriously, although it wasn’t very threatening as Stark was taking another piece of chocolate. Although there was something considering within the man’s gaze. 

Rogers let out a laugh somewhere near the oven. Barton joined him for a second before shushing them both. 

“Don’t laugh too loud or-”

“Ah, Friend Clint!” 

“Shit.” 

\---

“Why didn’t you take the chocolates, Connor?” Stark would later ask. Far away from the dining table and strangely serious. 

“I just don’t enjoy them, that’s all.”

Stark takes one look at Connor.

“You’re lying, aren’t you.”

Connor reaches towards his temple, feeling for an LED that wasn’t there, before snapping his hands away. 

No LED, so how-

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stark sighs, “alright, Connor.”

“I was just unsure of what to do with the gift, that’s all,” Connor stated, feeling defenseless under the man’s concerned gaze. 

Concerned? No- it can’t be.

“And why is that?” Stark queried.

“I’m not… used to receiving gifts for doing such menial tasks,” Connor answered. And that much was true. Back in Detroit- his Detroit despite androids being free no mothers nor fathers ever gave him something for saving their child. It was his job and he expected no payment for doing as such. 

“Not used to it?”

“Yes, I’m just unfamiliar with receiving…” Connor trails off, not sure how to finish the sentence. 

_What are you doing, telling Stark all of this?_

Stark looks at him, his gaze piercing. Before sadly shaking his head. His smile was odd. 

Connor wasn’t sure what he was thinking. 

\---

Connor goes home, Stark’s sharp smile imprinted in his mind.

Later, Hydra came knocking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> connor: why am i crying are these actual tears  
> rk800 the lying liar: n o  
> connor, despite knowing that rk800 is a lying liar: ok
> 
> daniel: i want my hair ruffles and i want them now
> 
> connor: daniel isnt a deviant  
> daniel: *dabs* 
> 
> connor, last chapter: lmao never gonna see that kid again  
> peter: oh h i mister!
> 
> connor: heres some chocolates  
> tony: who are you and what have you done with my son
> 
> connor: what could possibly go wrong now  
> hydra: yeet
> 
> hi guys, sorry for not updating last week. I'm afraid that I can't update as often anymore but be assured that I will continue this story! Anyways thank you for reading and please leave a comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you dislikes, your analysis, your predictions, just anything and I love reading all your thoughts on connor and his relationships and the rk800. like seriously im a comment lover.
> 
> so please leave a comment with all your thoughts as they motivate me so much! <3


	29. beginning of the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the fall

Step forward.

Chin up. 

Gaze ahead. 

Don’t look behind. 

He flips his coin, breath calm, motions smooth. 

\---

_Nameless face. Nondescript, indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd._

_As it were meant to be. It was their profession, after all. As part of a secret organization._

_They call themselves HYDRA._

\---

Connor looks forward, walking through the lab doors with smooth grace befitting of an android of his model. 

He spots Stark, his eyes curve into crescents and he lifts his cheeks in an imitation of a smile. 

\---

_They smile at him._

_Their eyes stay the same._

_So very odd and disjointed from their picture-perfect smile._

_Almost as if they forgot how to do so._

\---

Fake. His smile- or was it Connor Anderson’s?- was fake, artificial, a thing made of programs and reconstructed images. 

Stiff, too, he thinks wryly. Letting his smile fall down to a grimace for a split second. 

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.”

\---

_”Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson.”_

_Their eyes bore into him, their smile was ugly-_

_Disgusting._

\---

“What’s up, Connor?” Stark greeted halfheartedly, spinning his pencil expertly around his fingers as he continues to scribble down details with his other hands. Another one of Stark’s talents and odd quirks, Connor had soon found out that the man had plenty. 

“I’ve been doing well, Mr. Stark,” Connor answered, moving closer to the man peering over the billionaire’s shoulder, “what are you planning Mr. Stark?”

He huffs playfully shoving him off, “nothing to worry your little head about.”

But it was alright, Connor had already memorized what Stark was working on. 

Another StarkPad, nothing important. 

To him at least.

“Don’t be going around spreading any rumors now,” Stark warned teasingly, shooting an exaggerated wink at him. 

Connor blinks.

\---

_”We have heard of the rumors, Mr. Anderson. Needless to say-”_

_Their eyes were burrowing into him._

_As if-_  
  
\---

“Of course not, Mr. Stark,” the RK800 replied, pushing a bit of defensiveness into its tone, “don’t you trust me?”

Lower its gaze here and then gently bring it up again after 2.84 seconds. 

It bites its lips. 

Stark raises up his two hands, shaking his head rapidly. 

“No- no! That’s not what I meant, Connor. Of course, I trust you- I-”

It lets out a laugh, making its audio unit malfunction here and there. Less perfect, more human. 

It lets out a few hiccups. 

It blinks. 

“I was only joking with you, Mr. Stark.”

\---

_”This is no joke, Mr. Anderson.”_

_They smile even wider, yet-_

_It was even worse._

_“We assure you that we are serious.”_

\---

Stark pushes against him, playfully, he notes. 

_~~Fondly.~~ _

“I didn’t know that you could even joke!” the man laughs. 

He feels his face softening, relaxing into something more natural. Maybe he really was getting better at this acting thing. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Mr. Stark.” He winks.

\---

_”We know a lot of things about you, Connor Anderson-”_

_That’s not even my name._

_But what even is my name?_

_“-Born in 1995, March 17th. To Amanda and Elijah Anderson and-”_

Have you already forgotten?  
  
\---

Stark shoves at him once more.

“Don’t try to be playing Mr. Dark and Mysterious with me kid, that stitch only works on teenage girls so I’m afraid I’m way out of your demographic,” Stark joked, continuing to add details to his new invention. 

“This is just my default personality, I’m afraid,” Connor jested, shrugging his shoulders, casually stealing one of the chairs from Stark’s table before sitting down in one smooth motion. 

Stark snorted, “yeah, keep that up and maybe one day you’ll be the next billionaire playboy.”

“You surely flatter me too much, Mr. Stark.” 

“That’s not a compliment.”

“Mr. Stark you think too lowly of yourself,” Connor chastises. 

“Maybe you just think too highly of me,” Stark shot back, a decade of issues brimming underneath his comment. 

Connor didn’t want to delve any deeper. He already had a lifetime’s worth of old men and their deep-rooted issues. 

“Well, despite what you say I still think that you’re a good person, Mr. Stark,” Connor stated, smiling at the man. More genuinely than the first, “great, even.”

Stark lets out a shocked chuckle.

“Whatever you say, kiddo.” 

Connor only smiles.

The RK800 takes note. 

Later, Stark would stand up, stretching his back into an arch and raises a hand to cover up his yawn before waving for Connor to come closer. The man also tucks both of his pencils behind his ears.

“Come on, its time for our daily meet-and-greet with the extras,” Stark explained as he walks towards the lab doors, heading for what Connor logically assumes to be the kitchen.

With the extras being…

“I don’t think they’ll take well to you calling them extras, especially Mr. Barton,” Connor stated softly. Following the man.

“Well, no one likes the truth,” Stark replied, a touch of amusement coloring his voice, “but you gotta admit if we were a show it would be called Tony and Friends.”

“Or the Avengers,” Connor added.

Stark grunted noncommittally, “or that.” 

“But I do think that you’re the best Avenger,” Connor added slyly, a small smile playing at his lips as he trails behind the man. 

Stark lets out a laugh, “of course you’d say that after all, you’re my-”

\---

_”-Tony Stark’s intern, correct?”_

_Connor didn’t answer, his reply wouldn’t matter._

_They already knew the answer to that question._

\---

“- but I must say, you speak the truth, Connor.”

Stark walks into the kitchen with extra flourish blowing a kiss to Barton.

“Good morning, extras!” Stark shouted.

Barton shushes him.

“What Extra #3, displeased with your position?” Stark snarked, seating himself in his usual seat. 

“Yes! But also the fact of your casual disregard for my well being,” Barton bit back.

“I don’t see how my little rise in volume is harming you, but okay,” Stark pointed out, rolling his eyes. Connor takes a plate of pancakes from Rogers, shooting the hero a quick thanks, before placing it down in front of Stark. Before the man has any time to think about rushing to the coffee maker. 

“Don’t you get it!” Barton whispered, his teeth gritted, “you’ll summon _him._ ”

Stark takes a bite of the pancakes, and doesn’t look particularly panicked about the implications of Barton’s statement, “what, you mean, T-”

Barton shoves a hand over Stark’s mouth. 

“Don’t even say his name, god, its like magic or something-”

“Thor?” Rogers spoke from where he was flipping his pancakes. 

Clint lets out a pained wince. Stark snorted. 

“Not running away?” Stark asked. Connor could hear the sound of footsteps. 

Barton looks at the kitchen door before sprinting. 

Connor gives a quick prayer to the man. 

He, himself wincing at hearing the sound of collision and Barton’s noise of physical and mental pain. 

Maybe he should’ve warned Barton to escape a different way. Not that it was going to change the outcome to begin with. 

Barton gives Rogers an unpleasant look. For all his worth Captain America seems chastised and gives Barton some extra pancakes. 

Barton throws the pancakes at Thor.

“I’ve had enough! I declare war!” Barton shouted throwing himself out of his chair. 

Thor shrugs the initial assault off, rising passionately to his feet, “yes! I’ve been waiting to partake in-”

Barton throws a fork at the god. The fork bounces off harmlessly from the god’s body. 

“Look- I’m just gonna go-” Stark started, lifting his plate from the table.

“No, you’re not gonna leave Stark! You started this so you better join me or-”

\---

_Join us, they stated._

_Join us._

_Join HYDRA._

\---

“Can’t I just join Thor instead?” Stark questioned petulantly, wiping his mouth of whatever germs might have been left from Barton’s hand.

Barton looks very offended, “excuse me?”

“Yeah, no way am I partnering up with you Legolas-”

Thor lets out a sniff, a strange gleam taking over his eyes, “Friend Tony- I did not expect you to-”

Stark takes another bite of his pancake, doing a salute to Thor before ducking under one of Barton’s projectile. 

“Oh- Mr. Rogers, thank you, but yet again I do not need-” Connor raises up his hands to block the plate of pancakes that Rogers was nudging towards him. 

\---

_”This offer is to...”_

_He trails off, his gaze set downwards._

_“To…”_

_They stare at him, their smile unfazed._

\---

The blond lets out a huff of disappointment but takes back the plate easily enough, setting it down on the counter next to him. 

“If you ever reconsider, Connor, just-”

\---

_”Consider this offer very seriously, Mr. Anderson.”_

_Connor crosses his arms over his chest, guarded._

\---

“Thank you Mr. Rogers, but once again no.”

His eyes zoom over to the fight between Thor and Barton. 

Analyzing, memorizing.

Recording. 

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Rogers.”

Stark gives a defeated sigh from somewhere away from Connor. 

“Yeah, Cap, this is what I’m talking about. Making me eat all this healthy crap yet he, himself, doesn’t eat!”

Connor places a calming hand on Stark’s shoulder, “Mr. Stark, I’m just worried about your health.”

Stark grumbles but doesn’t shrug the touch off.

It takes notice, it always does. 

Stark ducks under another utensil and decides to book it.

Connor doesn’t blame him. 

“Come on, Connor!”

\---

_”Come on, Mr. Anderson.”_

_He knows what he should say. What he should do._

_“Give me a moment,” he says instead._

\---

“You know, Connor, I’ve been thinking lately,” Stark started, tapping his pencil against the table. 

“What about, Mr. Stark?” Connor inquired, setting his pencil down, turning his head towards Stark. 

“About you, Connor,” Stark stated. The tapping stops. 

“Oh?” Connor felt himself shifting in his seat, feeling the tension in the air.

“It’s just odd. You- your life,” Stark lets out a soft laugh, “a kid like you ending up as my intern-”

“I do not understand what is so odd about me wanting to be the intern of you, Mr. Stark, the CEO and billionaire of Stark Industries, you’re amazing, Mr. Stark-”

“There you go again,” Stark interrupted, “saying how amazing I am. But that’s not the point now. The point is that a kid like you- a kid with seemingly unlimited potential-”

\---

_”You have untapped potential, Mr. Anderson.”_

_He straightens his tie._

_“We can see your hunger for-”_

\---

“- with a distant family and a set of expectations on his shoulders set on by his father-”

“Mr. Stark-”

“- natural affinity with technology, a set of unhealthy habits, and so- so unaware of- of-”

“Mr. Stark-”

“- god, and somehow a kid like that becomes my intern? It’s almost as if- as if-”

“Mr. Stark…”

“This is a mistake waiting to happen-” Stark whispered softly, face still stern but taking on an ashen tone.

Connor feels something odd well up inside his chest.

An odd beat.

He blinks.

“Stark men- we- we-”

\---

_”Surely you want something better than Stark?”_

_Silence._

_“After all, Starks can only-”_

\---

It shushes Stark, bringing its arms around the man. 

“Mr. Stark, please calm down,” It soothes, rubbing soothing circles on Stark’s back. 

“Please look at me,” it stated, shifting away from Stark.

It kneels down, looking up at Stark with a calm smile, its brows are slightly wrinkled in worry.

“I am Connor Anderson,” it stated, “just that, Connor Anderson, your intern.”

It smiles.

“And dedicated fan.” 

Stark’s face breaks out into a wide grin. The hysteria fading away somewhat.

“Yeah- yeah, Connor Anderson,” the man repeats, placing a hand over its head. Toying with the strands, “my odd, slightly smarter than average intern.”

Such a man- 

Meeting such a man, it wonders if Connor was lucky or unlucky.

Unlucky, it would say.

It lets out an inaudible sigh, letting its eyes shutter shut.

\---

_A refusal was stirring in the back of his mind before being stamped out._

This is a chance, it states softly, take it. 

_But Stark-_

Have you forgotten?

\---

Connor breathes in reaching his arms upwards to pull Stark into a hug.

“Woah, kid, enough with the hugs. I’ve reached my affection quota for the day.”

Connor draws back, smiling softly at the man.

“I doubt that, Mr. Stark. But alright.”

Stark laughs, moving his hands through Connor’s hair.

“Thank you, Connor.”

\---

_He didn’t forget. He would never forget. But-_

_Stark- Stark was-_

Don’t you want to see Hank again?

_Connor lets out a shaky exhale._

_He closes his eyes._

“Yes.” 

\---

Stark draws his arms around Connor. The android closes his eyes.

\---

_”Welcome to HYDRA.”_

\---

“No, thank _you,_ Mr. Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the original title of this chapter was: so I sorta joined an organization, they're not a good one, but I swear im doing good. 
> 
> anyways i sorta? tried doing something new this chapter so I hoped you all enjoyed it. please leave a comment on what you liked, what you disliked, your analysis, your predictions, just your thoughts! 
> 
> they help me improve the story and motivate me so much! <3


	30. Woman of Roses and a Red Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor goes into a suspicious car and arrives at a suspicious place, meets a woman that reminds him of another woman, meets someone else, and connor talks to tony.

Connor couldn’t quite bring himself to look straight into Stark’s eyes for several moments, opting instead to look at Daniel instead. 

Daniel with its blue LED and its calm smile. 

Daniel who won’t- _can’t_ \- judge him. 

Not that Stark has knowledge of what he’d done either. But Connor supposes he felt some sort of guilt. Stark had treated him so well- treated Connor Anderson well. Stark was kind to him, despite what the rumors suggested, and took his duties as his employer seriously.

But despite how kind the man is, the billionaire, despite his vast wealth and influence can’t give Connor the tools he need to go home. Afterall, what sane man would allow his intern to waltz out with the Tesseract. And there was no way Connor could pour all his research into the Tesseract without Stark becoming suspicious, maybe even perceiving him as the next threat to the universe.

Stark gave him his thirium and spare compatible part, and Connor was thankful for that. 

But the man couldn’t give him the tools to go home.

\---

_They grin at him, full of teeth._

_“You want something greater don’t you?”_

_Silence._

_“We can give you what you want- at a price, of course.”_

_Silence._

_“No more worries about legalities, about moralities-”_

_He blinks._

_“No more worries about doing the _right_ thing-”_

_A subtle shift._

_“No more constraints. Just follow your heart- your talent-”_

_A smile._

\---

In the end, Connor just wants to go home. 

And the RK800 will get him there, no matter the cost. 

Stark was just unlucky to have meet Connor Anderson. 

\---

When he arrives back “home,” he waits for around 5 minutes before hearing soft repeated knocks on his door.

He fixes his tie before walking out the door of his apartment, already knowing who was awaiting him. 

They lead him to a nondescript black car, one opening the door for him, gesturing for him to enter. Under normal circumstances this would be a suspicious scene at best, no doubt the beginning of a murder case or such. But Connor supposes this was no normal situation, as he ducks under the hood of the car. He settles himself in the car, adjusting his position to look out the window only to realize that even the window was tinted black. Presumably to prevent him from seeing the location or directions to the HYDRA base. He shifted again, leaning his head against the back of the seat, breathing evenly.

It was unfortunate for them that he could always track his own coordinates. 

And if worse comes to worse he could always send Stark his location.

\---

He arrives at their destination, walking out and stretching his neck and arms as he continues treading after the agent. Whose assigned name was Adam, although Connor had never had to use the man’s name he thinks that it would be useful later.

He feels stares on him as he walks through the polished hallways, strangely reminiscent of SHIELD. Although the agents milling about were mostly dressed in their uniform with a red symbol strewn somewhere on it. Their faces were nondescript and so were their names, every detail of their persons seems to be directed to the goal of being as forgettable as possible. 

He straightens his tie yet again, feeling out place in the mass of agents. He was sure they could feel the disparity as well. 

Not that Connor Anderson had ever belonged in this world. 

He continues walking, making sure to look as smooth and clean as possible. Making sure to not make his discomfort known.

Adam comes to a gradual stop, in front of a plain door. The man pauses for a moment before knocking on the door in a rhythm that Connor recorded. He hears a muffled sound from behind the door before Adam opens the door and gestures for him to enter. 

He hesitates for a brief moment before entering. 

He hears the door closing behind him with an ominous creak. 

“Hello there, Mr. Anderson, correct?” a woman, seated at the front of a conference table of some kind, beckons him closer. Her eyes were deceptively kind. 

He nods, “yes.”

She smiles at him, and if he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought the smile genuine. But, alas, her acting is nothing before his interrogating programs. 

She gestures for him to sit down.

He obeys her sitting himself down, arms set loosely on the table. 

“How are you doing today?” she inquired, leaning forward. 

He pauses for a moment, “good.”

She smiles again, a kind smile, “wonderful.”

He only nods, seeing her face shift somewhat as though she was expecting more. 

He was starting to see what she was trying to do.

“Well, now onto the business side of things, you already know your main… mission, yes?” she asked softly, a her lips curved. 

“Yes, I am to report on any details of Stark and the Avengers.”

She nods approvingly as she hears his answer, “correct. Although we have more tasks for you now that we’ve seen more of your skillset.”

As though she could see his confusion, she opens the tablet that laid before her, tapping various buttons before setting the device down and turning it to face him. 

A footage- surprisingly clear- of the day when he became Stark’s intern through his fixing of the broken Roomba. From the angle it was shot at it was clear that the video came from one of the hopefuls that were in the room that day. 

He should’ve known HYDRA would’ve placed on of their agents as a potential candidate to become Stark’s intern, and if not at least know who the next intern would be. 

Connor lifts his eyes up from the screen back to the woman.

“As you can see, HYDRA has seen your potential as a mechanic. As such, we deem you fit to help the research and development department.”

Connor wasn’t about to say anything but a moment later the woman raises her finger to stop his nonexistent speech.

“Now- of course, I understand, you’re not here to waste all your time on other projects, you want to work on your own. Of course, perfectly understandable. So the your contributions to the research and development department is optional,” she pauses yet again, folding her hands, her smile full of teeth, “but, of course, if you decide to help them there will be benefits. Afterall, you’re here to conduct, ah- morally questionable research, yes? That is all well and good, but if you’ll be so inclined to help us then you’ll be granted access to many more things to help with your research. Much more tools and resources than what you’ll have now.”

He shifts.. 

“I believe we have a deal, Ms…?”

Her smile slips for a brief moment. 

She smiles again not letting any of her emotions through, “Amanda, you can call me Amanda.” 

Connor smells a faint scent of roses in the air. 

“...Amanda?”

It smiles back. 

Of course, that was their game. 

“...Amanda,” it states wistfully, making sure to pause for a brief moment and letting its gaze fall, “nice to meet you as well.” It casts it gaze to her face, squinting its eyes for a brief moment as though seeing something before wiping his eyes to clear up its vision. 

It sees something flicker behind her eyes, something a lot like victory. 

“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Anderson.” 

\---

He was later dismissed, the woman- Amanda, he reminds itself- gives him a friendly wave before gesturing for one of the agents near the door to take him away. 

The agent gave it a quick nod gesturing for him to follow him. He gives the woman one last lingering look before closing the door. 

He walks through the hallways being sure to memorize the layout of their base, noting the different paths and doors. Making sure to make his head as still as possible only surveying the scene through the corner of his optical unit. 

A few minutes into the seemingly endless hallway a shoulder bumped into him. 

His head snapped towards the offending body hands ready to defend himself. 

He freezes instead, coming to a stop under the man’s sharp grey eyes. 

_Danger._ Something inside of him screams. His shoulders tense even further hands shifting slightly, ready to move into action. 

He analyze the man, though not much could be seen from how half of the man’s face was covered from his eyes down, but he’ll take what he can get. The man has brown hair, saggy and hanging just around his shoulders. Not well maintained judging by the uneven ends. 

His body was well built as well, somewhat similarly to Roger’s built, which was quite impressive considering that the blond was a superhero. 

His metal arms was very unique as well, with a red star emblazoned in the center. 

A metal arm that was getting into a defensive pose as well. 

Connor leans backwards away from the man snapping his gaze back to the man’s gaze once more. 

Sharp piercing, yet for all his fierceness surprisingly dull. Glazed over, he sees something reflected in those eyes. 

His own figure.

“Asset, stop,” the agent behind him orders. The man does so sliding back into a neutral stance. The agent then waves the man away. The man does so. 

After a few moments, Connor turns his head back to the agent, “who was that man?”

The agent gave him a grin, full of teeth and malice, “haven’t you heard that curiosity killed the cat, sir?”

Connor nods. 

\---

That night Connor dreams, seeing sharp grey eyes looking down at him. 

A hand placed over his thirium pump. 

A hand yanking it out. 

His hand reaching out to pull at the mask.

And the face he sees-

It was-

_Connor…_

Blue LED. 

_You traitor-_

\---

Connor reawakens hands reaching upwards yet reaching nothing. 

A gasp and another.

Red LED. 

_You traitor-_

Connor later calls Stark. At exactly 2:04 AM. 

“Connor! Hi kiddo! Although I’m just kinda wondering whats the occasion since it’s like two in the morning and even though I don’t sleep, teenagers should-”

“Mr. Stark, goodnight.”

“What-”

He lays the phone down. 

Blue LED. 

\---

“So, Connor what was that call about?” Stark inquired the next day as Connor arrives at the workshop.

“What call?” Connor deflected hoping that maybe, just maybe Stark would get the hint and drop it. 

Stark gave him the most deadpan stare he’d ever seen as the man gives one snap.

“-two in the morning and even though I don’t sleep, teenagers should-”

“Mr. Stark, goodnight.”

Stark snaps his fingers again, “that one.”

Connor fidgets in his seat, “I- um- that was just a random call. I was tired and my brain wasn’t functioning correctly so-”

Stark raises his hand, “yeah, no, try again.”

God, why was Stark suddenly so perceptive. 

“I just- I just-” Connor fumbles for an answer, “I just had a… nightmare and- and well I wasn’t quite rational afterwards.”

Stark sets down his pencil, “And you didn’t call your parents?”

“No, why would I?” Connor blurts out, before pausing seeing how Stark’s face slowly change.

“Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me that your parents are still overseas?”

Connor nods.

“So… have they heard about the very recent and very publicized alien invasion?” Stark’s pitch rises.

Connor nods.

“And they didn’t return?”

Connor nods.

Stark gives a defeated sigh, a tired hand coming to cover his face. His shoulders were tense as if holding something in. 

Connor tried to placate the man, “yes, I had informed my parents of the recent event. And both I and them agree that it wouldn’t make sense for them to come visit for such a short time. But worry not, Mr. Stark, they had sent me enough money to cover for me renting a new apartment and new living arrangements.”

Stark heaved a sigh although he didn’t look any better. 

“So they just gave you money as an apology and then they’re gone?” the man asked incredulously.

“Ah- well, the money was for my destroyed apartment, but-”

“ _Destroyed apartment?_ ” Stark’s pitch rises yet again. 

“- yes, did I forget to mention-”

“Yes!” Stark practically shouted, hands now moving to pull at his hair. 

“-well, Mr. Stark-” Stark gave a huff before standing up and marching out the workshop, Connor soon following him. 

Soon Stark stands in front of the Avengers slamming his hands down on the table. 

The rest stops before staring up at the inventor. 

“What is it Stark?” Barton asked, taking a spoonful of his dry cereal. Connor takes notice of the absent of milk. 

Stark surprisingly does not comment on this, “say hi to our new roommate.”

Barton raises an eyebrow, “who?”

Stark gestures behind him, and Connor turns around as well, hoping that no- Stark wasn’t doing this to him. 

“My intern, Connor Anderson.”

Barton snorts, “I thought he was already living here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> connor: wow a black car that i dont know driven by people that i know are villains to a location full of other villains- time to get in lol
> 
> amanda 2.0: call me amanda  
> connor: amanda?  
> rk800: u cant fool me biatch. 
> 
> bucky: bumps into connor.  
> connor: u wanna f i g h t ?  
> connor a second later: shit nvm, were chill
> 
> connor: *gets nightmare* hi mr. stark  
> tony: connor r u ok what is happening-  
> connor: lol bye
> 
> tony: so about ur parents.  
> connor: what about them-  
> tony: its ok ur safe with me now  
> connor: what  
> tony: say hi to connor guys-  
> connor: not this-
> 
> thanks for reading the chapter guys hopefully you guys enjoyed it! Please leave your thoughts below, what you liked, what you disliked, your thoughts, your analysis, your predictions! 
> 
> I love reading you guys talk and speculate about this story, they motivate me so much! :D


	31. Fortunate and Unfortunate Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a confrontation occurs, someone gets a hug (i guess), another person gets a hug (for sure), and two really not well suited people meet.

“That’s a terrible idea, Mr. Stark,” Connor shot down immediately. Hands coming to straighten his tie.

Stark turns around, focusing his attention back to Connor, “no, Connor, this is a great idea.”

The man folds his arms and straightens his back. Standing firm before Connor. Though his messy hair and dark eye circles does detract from his imposing image. Stark doesn’t seem to care nor notice as he continues to stare Connor down.

Stark was determined, Connor didn’t to use his facial analysis to know that. 

“Look, Mr. Stark, I assure you that your worries are unfounded for-” Stark very audibly snorts, not even attempting to hide it, “- I am very capable of taking care of myself without the supervision of my parents.”

Connor stares at Stark, part pleading part assuring. 

Stark doesn’t seem to buy it- and if anything, his statement seems to have made the man even more determined. 

The billionaire’s shoulder were tensed, there was a strange glint in his eyes. 

And based on all his previous interactions with the man the only time when this type of reaction only occur when he was talking about his- no, Connor Anderson’s- parents. 

And judging by the tense shoulders and narrowed eyes the man didn’t seemed to pleased with his- _not his, never-_ parents. 

But why, that was the real question. Stark didn’t know anything about the elusive Elijah or Amanda Anderson. Connor doubts that Stark has ever seen a picture of the two. 

Whatever the reason was Connor needed to defuse whatever negative feelings Stark has towards Elijah and Amanda Anderson, and quickly as well if he wanted to keep his autonomy beyond the lab doors. 

“Mr. Stark, my parents and I do have an arrangement of sorts. Seeing that I was independent from a young age they and I had both reached the consensus that it would be the most efficient for me to stay here in the states while they travel overseas to further their career,” Connor pauses for a moment assessing Stark only to find the man’s expression unreadable, “I must repeat that they do send me enough money- more than enough perhaps- to sustain my lifestyle thus-”

“How long has this been going on for?” Stark questioned, the man’s voice was low and the way he spoke was slower than usual. 

Connor can sense the stares of the rest of the Avengers. 

Connor has not considered this aspect of Connor Anderson’s life before.

But there was two options he could take here: either say it was a recent development thus ensuring that Stark would fuss over his inexperience of being an independent teen and with that dismissing any further arguments or he could say that it wasn’t a recent development allowing him further room to argue against Stark’s argument that he did not know how to take care of himself by therein stating his “experience” in doing so. 

Well, it was obvious what choice Connor was going to pick. 

“Do not worry, Mr. Stark this is not a recent development, in fact, my parents and I have came to this agreement several years ago. You do not need to worry about me living without supervision either as they have hired a caretaker, of sorts, to check on me every other week or so,” Connor explained. Mind spinning, already thinking on how to create this new caretaker in Connor Anderson’s life. It wouldn’t take much to create another human, but it would be harder to create a physical one. But Connor could worry about that later, as the android sneak several glances at Stark assessing the man’s expression.

It did not look good.

But why-

“Several years?” the man’s voice was quiet. Unusual, Connor notes, and slightly disturbing. Somewhat like the calm before the storm.

Connor, feeling oddly nervous, fidgets with the coin inside his pants pocket before nodding. 

“Look, Mr. Stark, I appreciate your concern but I think that you’re overthinking the situation,” Connor placated, placing a hand on Stark’s shoulder.

The man shoves it off, eyes now blazing with anger.

“No! I am not overreacting! This- this “arrangement” that you have with your parents,” Stark made air quotes with his fingers, “isn’t normal, Connor!”

Connor made vague motions to reach for Stark but decided against it, drawing his hands back to his tie and coin. 

“I assure you that it is normal, Mr. Stark,” he stated. His voice sounding hollow even to his own ears. 

“But what do you know about normal?” Stark questioned, his voice loud in the silent kitchen the question made Connor flinch, “this has been going for several years, hasn’t it? No- you know what, I bet that has been happening since forever! You- Connor-”

This time, it was Rogers who tried to calm Stark down, “Tony- look, I know you worry about him, but- just calm down alright? You’re scaring the kid.”

Stark looks as though he was ready to throw the other superhero off but stops as he glances back at Connor. Connor does not know what expression was on his face- didn’t even know that his expression has changed- but whatever it was it made all of Stark’s anger dissipate. 

The man’s attempted to reach out for him, Connor taking a step back. His thirium rushing around wildly inside his body. 

_”What do you know about being normal?”_

“Connor, please I’m- I’m just worried about you,” Stark began, voice sounding distant to Connor’s ears, “please just come live here.”

_”Don’t you wanna come and live with me Connor?” tired blue eyes, shifting into something more hopeful. Hand running through gray locks._

Connor can see the glimmer of desperation in the man’s eyes. 

_Connor can see the blossoming of hope behind the man’s eyes._

“Mr. Stark-”

“Think about it, unlimited access to the workshop- whenever you want. Whatever stuff you want- parts, furniture, games- all on me, and here within an hour-”

The man’s motions grew faster as he continues talking. 

Connor cannot bear to see the man’s eyes. Cannot bear to see it overlap with something else. 

_”You know, if you come and live with me you won’t have to complain about my unhealthy habits anymore.”_

Because he knows that this story won’t- can’t end like how Stark wishes it will. 

“You can eat whatever the hell you wanna eat, once again, all on me. No need to worry about your expenses-”

“Mr. Stark-”

At this point Rogers attempted to interject only for his hand to be shoved off Stark’s body. 

_”I know I can’t offer you much, Connor. And whatever I can afford you is probably nowhere enough for an android like you,” the man sounded resigned, Connor wanted to interrupt wanted to tell him that-, “but- hey-”_

“-and you get to hang out with everyone’s favorite band of superheroes, so how about it?” Stark proposed hand reaching out towards Connor. His smile was confident like a salesmen making his best pitch. 

Connor can see the ‘please’ in his eyes. 

_”You’ll, uh, get to hang out with Sumo- and me. Sorry it’s kind of a package deal but- uh, how about it?”_

Connor takes Stark’s hand, a pasted smile on his lips. 

_Connor clasp at Hank’s hand a crooked smile playing on his lips._

Connor can see the hope in the man’s eyes and feels all the more cruel. 

_Connor sees the man’s eyes curving in happiness and feels something akin to joy rising from within his chest._

Connor places Stark’s hand back to the man’s chest.

_Connor draws the human in for a hug. The motion awkward and clunky._

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark-”

_”I supposed I have no other option.” Loud laughter a rough hand messing up his hair- it was warm._

“- the answer is no.”

Stark draws back, somewhat like a wounded animal. His eyes blown wide. Connor continues to look at the man passively, a smile still pasted onto his lips. Perfect and flawless. 

“Connor- why-” the man began, his determination still burning bright.

Connor only shakes his head. 

Perhaps, he thinks, perhaps in another universe. 

A universe where Connor Anderson was real- if there was such a place- Connor was sure the boy would’ve taken Stark’s offer in a heartbeat. Perhaps then the boy would be happy- perhaps then the boy would turn away from HYDRA. 

But this is not that universe. 

In this universe, Connor Anderson only smiles, perfect and faultless- but there is no joy to be seen.

“I am sorry,” is the only thing that he can say. And he does not know who is speaking.

Stark looks about ready to argue until JARVIS cuts in with a sharp, “sir.” 

Stark then draws in a heavy inhale, despite it seemingly doing nothing to the man’s tense shoulder or arms it seems to calm the man down somewhat. 

“Fine- fine, if you don’t want to live here then instead let- let me meet your parents instead,” Stark stated. His eyes burning with the same untempered determination as previous. 

“They can’t meet face-to-face, Mr. Stark, they are overseas and-”

“Hell, facetime will do,” Stark interrupted.

And Connor can’t find himself rejecting the man.

“Very well.”

\---

The kitchen was tense after that. Emotions still running high from the conversation that transpired before. 

Starks gave a curt nod before leaving quickly shoving past Rogers, leaving Connor to stare at the man’s back as he leaves. 

Connor gives a nod to Rogers as well- albeit much more polite- and turns around walking off in the opposite direction. 

“Connor, do- do you want to talk?” Rogers asked hesitantly. Connor gives the man a gentle shake of the head. 

\---

The workshop was conspicuously absent without Stark in it. Though Connor knows the reason of Stark’s absence it didn’t make the emptiness any easier to deal with. 

No matter, Connor will be gone soon enough. 

The android hastily collects his belongings, stuffing them inside his backpack- brand new, his previous destroyed as well. 

“Connor,” a hesitant voice calls out in the empty lab. 

Blue LED. 

“Daniel,” Connor answered back, his grip on the backpack tightening. 

“Is everything alright?” the other android asks, softly, calmly. 

“Yes,” Connor replied, a bit too fast, a bit too rough. 

Yellow LED. 

The blond’s face twist into an imitation of a frown. Its blue eyes shining with a soft light and its brows scrunched. 

If Connor lies to himself enough maybe he can say that Daniel was concerned. 

But no- Daniel isn’t concerned. Daniel can’t ever be concerned. Daniel isn’t- and never will be- a deviant. 

_I killed you, didn’t I, so why-_ Something whispers inside of him, weak and fragile. 

He watches the android’s LED flash between yellow and red, the light contrasting harshly with the blue shine of its eyes. 

“Are you sure?” it persists, voice soft and mellow. It reaches out towards him. 

And Connor- despite knowing better- doesn’t dodge away from Daniel’s touch. 

“Are you alright, Connor?” it asks again. Connor doesn’t reply, but stays in place feeling the other android’s arm on his shoulder. 

He sees the yellow LED spinning and spinning and sees the soft blue sheen in the other android’s eyes. A perfect imitation of sympathy and concern, he thinks, feeling a conflicting mix of pride and sadness. 

Connor- depire knowing better- pulls Daniel closer. Hiding his head in the crook of the android’s shoulder. 

The android pauses for a moment before bringing its arms around Connor.

Warm, it was warm. And if Connor delude himself enough then- 

“Don’t,” Connor commanded, harsh and weak. The warmth retracted as Daniel's arms fall away. He stays there head burrowed in the junction between the android’s neck and shoulder, he tightens his arms around Daniel. 

Just for a brief moment he closes his eyes. 

\---

It opens its eyes drawing itself back. Straightening its tie and smoothing over any wrinkles on its clothes. 

It stares at the android before it, seeing the LED blink yellow.

It sees the turmoil behind glassy blue eyes. Something like dread and exhilaration fills it.

Sometimes it wonders if deviancy was only an inevitable ending. 

Moments later the present and past began to overlap in front of it. 

It can see the flashes of thirium stains on white cloth, of wound shots, of red LED blinking grey, of lips opening to say-

_**”You lied to me-** _

Yet the eyes were identical.

_”Are you alright-”_

Always accusing. Always so-

_”Connor…”_

The RK800 runs.

\---

**[ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ]**

\---

Connor lets out a heavy exhale despite not feeling any physical exhaustion. He readjusts his backpack and clothing before going on his way. 

Hopefully to no more distractions. 

“Oh, hey- Mister!” Peter Parker yelled from behind him. Connor debated between running or humoring the boy for a hot second before turning around to face the young child. 

“Hello there, Mr. Parker,” Connor greeted, though he didn’t sound nowhere near cheerful as the boy did. His enthusiasm, or lack of one, didn’t seem to affect the boy much as a bright grin was shot as him. 

Connor bends down a bit looking around for any sign of Ben Parker, yet unable to find the man. 

“Where is your uncle?” he questioned, now eye level with the boy as he crouched down. Small Parker seems to mull over the question for a while, head moving from side to side as the young face was set in a look of deep concentration. 

“Don’t know!” the boy announced cheerfully, another easy grin on his face.

“Oh, so- are you, uh- lost?” Connor asked. 

“Nope,” the boy answered confidently, “big boys like me don’t get lost.”

“So where is your uncle?” Connor repeated, trying his best to find more information and not scare the young child at the same time.

“Don’t know,” the boy repeated, before gasping. His face losing several shades of color. 

Connor prepares himself for a bawling child. 

“Oh no-”

“Mr. Parker, please don’t-”

 

“Uncle Ben got lost!” the child declared, seemingly in distress. No tears were seen, which was good. 

“Well, I supposed since you can’t find him we should head to a police station,” Connor concluded, nodding a little at his own solution, “shall we?”

He holds out his hand for the boy. The boy grasp at his hand, clumsily trying to match Connor’s pace.

The walked in silence for a bit in the bustling streets of Manhattan. Connor finding himself relieved that Parker didn’t seem likely to burst into tears anytime soon. God knows how many crying child he had to handle in his short lifetime. 

And none of those incidents had ended well for both parties. 

But Parker was a peculiar child he supposed, a bit too optimistic and energetic but otherwise normal. 

But what did he know about normal?

“Hey, Mister, are you okay?” the boy spoke up, doe brown eyes staring up at him. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

“Are you really sure?” Brown eyes. Bright and Burning.

“Yes.”

“Are you really, really sure?” 

Connor didn’t deign to respond. Though he immediately felt guilty as the boy ceased his chatter. 

“Mr. Parker, I-”

“I’m sorry,” the boy mumbled.

“What for?” Connor asked, curious. 

“My questions made you sad,” the brunette lamented. His brown eyes still staring up at Connor. Bright, burning. 

“No, of course not,” Connor denied, his hand adjusting his grip on the boy’s. 

“Really?” the boy asked. Brows still scrunched.

“Yes, really,” Connor answered, “in fact, your concern for me makes me happy.”

The child’s eyes lit up. 

Bright and burning, Connor thinks. 

Small Parker lets out a cheer as he jumps in place.

_His smile is nice._

The silence was comfortable after that with Small Parker humming- what Connor would later recognized as the Iron Man theme song- cheerfully as he continue to walk with the android. 

“Peter!” Ben Parker yelled sometime afterwards. His panic and distress was obvious to anyone with eyes. Parker immediately grabbed onto Small Parker, enveloping the boy in a tearful hug. It spoke volumes of the man’s previous distress that he didn’t seem to acknowledge or notice that Connor was there. 

“I found you, Uncle Ben!” Small Parker squealed hugging his uncle back with equal enthusiasm.

“Peter Parker what did I tell you about wandering off on your own!” Parker scolded, still unable to muster up any real anger, “did you know how worried I was?”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Ben,” the boy apologized. 

“God! I thought you were kidnapped, or- or-” Parker trails off, taking in a deep inhale to calm himself down. 

“It’s okay though, Mister was here!” the boy stated, pulling on Connor’s hand. At the same time, drawing Parker’s attention to himself.

Connor gives a little wave.

“God, thank you so much- again,” Parker professed, once again drawing Small Parker into his arms, “first my wife and now Peter- thank you so much, Mister…”

“Anderson, Connor Anderson.”

Parker gives him a grin, one that was strangely identical to that of Small Parker. 

“Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” the man thanked sincerely, “though sorry to cut our little meeting short.”

The man gently pries Small Parker away from Connor, the boy letting out a small grunt as he did so. 

“May is worried sick right now, so I…” the man trails off yet again. 

Connor gives a little nod, giving the boy a little wave before turning around. 

“Oh, wait!” the boy yelled, dragging his uncle after him as he runs for Connor.

Connor stops, seeing the boy thrust a Stark phone into his face. 

Connor stares at the object for a moment before hesitantly taking it and inputting his phone number before placing the phone back to the boy’s hand. The boy looks at him intently still holding out one of his hand. 

Connor hesitated.

“Please?”

Another phone was soon placed on Small Parker’s hand. 

A few clumsy taps later the boy returns the phone.

“Call me if you ever get sad again!” the boy yelled before being pulled away by his uncle. 

He changes the contact name from ‘Peter’ to ‘Small Parker.’

\---

Later, Connor would toil away on lines and lines of code.

This isn’t going so far as to create life.

But it is close enough.

\---

Connor carries a tablet with him. His steps were confident and smooth as he enters the elevator. There wasn’t a trace on his face that spoke of a lack of sleep from the night previous. 

This time he moves upwards, walking into an office instead.

Stark was there awaiting him. Dressed to the nines in his suit and sunglasses. The awkward inventor he met yesterday was gone, now sitting before him was Tony Stark the CEO of Stark Industries.

Connor sets down the tablet in front of Stark.

“Mr. Anderson, correct?” 

“So you would be Mr. Stark,” Elijah Anderson drawled, “nice to meet you.”

“Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for me,” Stark replied. Sharp and cutting.

And Elijah Kamski smiles from beyond the screen.

“How unfortunate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter summary:
> 
> tony; live here pls  
> connor: no  
> tony: listen up here you angsty teenager- now that you're in this household-
> 
> steve: do u wanna talk  
> connor: no  
> daniel: r u sure tho  
> connor: n o  
> peter: r u really really sure tho  
> connor: LiSten-
> 
> connor: r u lost  
> peter: no my uncle is lost  
> connor: okay, so ur basically lost
> 
> elijah: nice to meet you  
> tony: yeah, NOT nice to meet you, too  
> elijah: you bitch
> 
> i tried including more details about the relationship(?) between connor and the rk800 this chapter
> 
> thanks for reading this chapter guys! truly I am thankful for all of your support and love! <3 please leave a comment on your thoughts, what you liked, what you disliked, your analysis, and your predictions. I just love reading all of your comments and they help motivate me!


	32. Creator and Creation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which elijah and tony talks and nobody is happy by the end of it (well maybe elijah is)

“Well, I predict that you don’t want any small talk either,” Elijah Anderson commented, folding his hands in front of him. A familiar grin playing at his lips.

Stark, true to the prediction, doesn’t look ready to talk much either. His angry gaze directly solely at the man in front of him. Although the simulation doesn’t look all that faze by the intense stare down. 

_Elijah Kamski wouldn’t care._

“All the better for me I suppose,” Elijah Anderson continues, as though he and Stark were not strangers on hostile terms but instead bosom buddies. He was sure that the simulation wasn’t blind to the hero’s intense anger as well. 

Connor knows that fact like he knows that the sky is blue. Know that Elijah Kamski can see through a man with a single of his shrewd glances, dissecting them with his questions and comments. Always ready to pick and prod at them for more. 

_”What about you? What side are you on?”_

The simulation was no doubt the same.

Afterall, Connor was confident in his programming. 

“So, Mr. Stark, are you going to speak anytime soon or am I going to lead this whole conversation?” Elijah Anderson asks, a mocking smile spreading across his lips. 

Poking and prodding, picking and tearing. 

“Connor,” Stark grunted. Surprisingly short and to the point in contrast to his usual demeanor. 

“Ah, yes, Connor- my precious son,” Elijah Anderson added, the same smile still in place, as though painted on. The word ‘precious’ that came out of Elijah’s mouth was more of an afterthought than an actual endearment. More mocking than caring. 

But that was what was to be expected of Elijah Kamski.

There was only one compliment that ever sounded right when it comes to Elijah Kamski. 

“Yes, Connor, your son,” Stark affirmed. Tone severe and already judging. His hands curled into loose fists. 

“What about him?” the simulation asks, though looking no more confused than it did previous. As though the question it posed was nothing more than filler, perhaps stalling for the confrontation to come- no, that wasn’t right, Elijah Kamski didn’t stall. Elijah Kamski lives for confrontations, thrives in them like a fish would in water.

This was undoubtedly Elijah Kamski trying to get a rise out of Stark. 

Connor took a glance at the other man. 

And it was working, too. 

“No matter, with Connor- well, I have no doubt that his performance is acceptable as always. Afterall, he is one of my brightest,” Elijah Kamski- the simulation began, “so is his behavior… unsatisfactory? If so, do inform me Mr. Stark, I am curious in learning how that one has suddenly gone rogue. You know, he was always silent one, a bit lacking in some aspects, but all together acceptable- so I conclude that the hormones must already be taking quite a toll,” the simulation explained loftily, a hand under his chin and eyes glazed over as if deep in thought, “Connor?”

“Yes?”

“Come here,” the simulation ordered, forcing Connor to go into motion, positioning himself somewhere behind Stark. But most importantly in front of the simulation. 

_Its first thought of the man were of his grey eyes._

His first thought when seeing the simulation were how familiar its eyes were. 

“Ah, there you are,” Elijah Kamski- the simulation- greeted tone deceptively gentle and smile entirely unpleasant. 

Familiar, Connor thinks. A heavy feeling coming from within his chest.

“Have you been well?” the simulation continues.

A curt nod. 

“Good,” the simulation nods back. Though Connor was sure that even if he had shook his head the response wouldn’t be any different. The question was nothing more than a formality and his reply meant nothing to the man.

_Elijah Kamski would never care._

“Did you create any trouble?” The question was drawled out and spoken passively, as though the asker didn’t particularly care for the answer. 

Yet its gaze spoke of a different tale and spoke of silent accusations and judgement.

Connor shakes his head in denial, letting his gaze fall to the ground for a brief moment. 

“So then why is Mr. Stark calling me?” the simulation pondered to itself. The repeated sound of an index finger tapping on wood began. It closes its eyes.

Connor doesn’t reply.

The tapping persists, getting progressively faster.

“I sure wonder,” the simulation stated, pausing for a moment, resting its- his head on his knuckles.

_”Whose side are you on?”_

The screen seems to shift by a frame or so.

_It pauses for a moment, considering._

“About what?” Connor inquired part obligatory and instinct.

_”I have no side.”_

Tap. Tap. Tap. Repeating on a loop. Down to the milliseconds. 

_Loud laughter, like nails on a chalkboard it thinks._

“Are you perhaps-” 

_”Let me give you a simple advice-”_

“-trying to lie to me?”

“Don’t _lie to me._ ”

Elijah Kamski open his eyes. 

_Its creator stands before it._

_“Now, whose side are you really on?”_

_It cannot breathe._

Something claws at Connor’s chest. 

“No- no, of course not,” he managed to choke out. 

He didn’t know what he was denying for.

“Interesting,” Elijah Kamski notes, “is Mr. Stark calling me for a parent-employer conference?”

The man waits for his reply, head still rested on his knuckles. 

“Oh! Um, no- but I-” Connor struggles to fully articulate the answer. Because he, himself, didn’t know why Stark was calling either. 

Elijah Kamski continues to wait, waiting for his reply. 

_”Come on, the clock’s ticking.”_

Always so infuriating. Always so condescending, so judging-

_It cannot feel betrayal. Cannot feel anything, really._

_But if it can, it would._

“No,” Stark cuts in, rough and fast, “Connor has been great, Mr. Anderson. What I am calling about is you.”

Kamski lets out a hum, closing his eyes briefly as if deep in thought. 

A pause. 

“Would you mind enlightening me on why you called then? I am a genius but I must admit that mind reading is a skill that is beyond me at the moment,” Kamski quipped, a sly smile appearing on his face. 

Connor has never seen Stark so angry.

“Did you know about the alien invasion that happened?” Stark questioned, Connor can tell that the man was trying to keep his calm. But he wasn’t quite doing a good job of it.

“Of course, I do not, in fact, live under a rock,” Elijah replied, a bite within some of his words. A bit condescending mixed with a tad of arrogance, the perfect Kamski blend. 

“Then why didn’t you come back?” Stark snapped, his nails digging into his palms. Connor can see the crescent indents that it created. His volume made Connor flinch back, but that was to be expected as well.

Kamski stares at Stark with a perplexing gaze, Connor can see the gears turning within the man’s head. 

Always accessing, always analyzing. 

“I don’t quite get what the problem is Mr. Stark. Yes, I am aware of the alien invasion, what of it? Connor wasn’t harmed was he?” Elijah Kamski pauses for a moment, “were you, Connor?”

_”What are you, really?”_

Connor shakes his head.

“Good,” Kamski stated again. Not that Kamski would care if he got injured in the first place. 

_Elijah Kamski never cared for any of his creations._

Another pause.

Before Stark exploded.

“His apartment got destroyed!” Stark shouted, volume raising with his anger. Connor can’t quite see the man’s eyes from behind his sunglasses but he could imagine that Stark’s eyes would be burning with righteous fury, all aimed at the other man in front of him. 

“And I paid for another one,” Elijah Kamski replied calmly. Figure still from beyond the screen. 

“That’s not the point!” Stark yelled, his hands clenched into fists though they still lay on the table. 

“What is the point then, Mr. Stark?” Kamski asks, not expecting a reply as he continues, “I pay for the apartment, pay for my beloved child’s living expenses, food, necessities, clothes, etcetera, etcetera. I pay for it all. In fact, I give him quite a generous amount of money. Enough to get most things a teenage boy would want before the next paycheck,” Kamski pauses for a moment, considering before continuing, “my son is living quite a luxurious lifestyle as well, now that I have recompansate him with a more luxurious penthouse and even more allowance than before. So what’s the problem, Mr. Stark?”

_”No answer? Then I suppose you’ll be answering a different question for me today then.”_

An infuriating smile, Kamski always did know how to twist the knife in. 

“Do- do you even care for Connor?” Stark demanded, if possible, the man fumed even further. 

Elijah Kamski pauses, seemingly unfazed.

“You’re his father, aren’t you?”

_”He’s your creator right?”_

_It turns around from the grand portrait to its partner._

Another pause.

“A father would care for his son,” Elijah Kamski stated. Sounding like an scientist stating a simple observation.

“That tells me nothing,” Stark replied blithely, “are you even happy seeing your son?”

_”How does it feel to meet your maker?”_

Silence.

_It pauses, thinking._

Then Elijah Kamski lets out a small sigh, finally raising his head from his knuckles and folding his hand in front of himself. 

_It smiles, the soft smile feeling awkward on its lips._

“Tell me, Mr. Stark, does a creator care for his creations?”

_”I don’t know-”_

Silence. 

_”- but I’ll tell you once I meet him.”_

“What?” Stark hissed, his nails causing deep indents in his palms and Connor can feel his anger in the air. 

“Oh, do you need me to repeat that?” Elijah Kamski inquires readily. 

“Creation?” Stark screeched, “Are you seriously calling a child- your child, your goddamn son- just a creation?”

Elijah Kamski blinks, before nodding. 

“Such a fascinating question, isn’t it, if you detach yourself from the labels of ‘father’ and ‘son.’ In the end, it’s basically creator and creation. It’s a thin difference, really, I wouldn’t blame you for not seeing the connection before,” Kamski pauses, still smiling, “but then I supposed most wouldn’t think of it that way either.”

_Elijah Kamski never cared for any of his creations._

“No one thinks of their child like that!” Stark exploded, frame shaking with anger. 

“Are you sure about that? From what I’ve heard about Howard Stark-” Elijah Kamski stops abruptly, a cheshire grin on his face as he observes Stark. 

Elijah Kamski always knew where to stab to hurt the most.

“You bastard, you don’t bring my father into this-”

“Wasn’t it you, Mr. Stark, who attacked me first by asking me if I care for Connor?” Kamski countered, biting and sharp. Grin still on his face. 

Stark slammed one of his fists down to the table, taking in numerous shuddering breaths. 

Silence, filled with nothing except the sound of Stark’s unnatural breathing. 

“You never answered my question,” Stark growled. Voice still shaky in an effort not to explode.

“Which?”

“Do you care for Connor? Your son, your child- your _creation?_ ” Stark snarled.

_”How does it feel to meet your maker?”_

“I sure wonder,” Elijah said in terms of an answer.

_It pauses, thinking._

“Don’t try to stall, Mr. Anderson, just a quick yes or no.”

_It thinks of Pinocchio and Gepetto._

Elijah Kamski leans forward.

_And it smiles, the soft smile feeling awkward on its lips._

_Perhaps, it thinks._

“A creator can’t care for his creations.”

_”I don’t know, but I’ll tell you once I meet him.”_

An odd beat from somewhere inside him.

_A gun pressed into its hands._

“And I doubt the creation cares much for its creator in turn.”

_Its creator stands before it._

Stark’s face contorted in something wild and animalistic.

_”Pull the trigger-”_

“You-”

_It cannot feel betrayal. Cannot feel anything, really._

_But if it can, it would._

A light laugh escapes from Elijah Kamski. 

Like a child laughing at the way a butterfly's wings would crumble and tear.

Connor clenches and unclenches his fists feeling for something that wasn't there

“Oh dear, it seems that you’re not quite in the mood to continue this conversation, so I supposed we’ll have to continue this another day. When you’re, ah, a bit more rational.”

Elijah Kamski does a little bow and then the screen turns black.

Silence. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark.”

He can feel the weight of a gun resting in his hands.

\---

_It looks down at the RT600- Chloe-_

_It thinks of Pinocchio and Gepetto._

_And it laughs._

\---

The truth was: Elijah Kamski never cared for any of his creations. 

And another truth is that his creations didn’t care for him in return. 

_The RK800 looks at its creator for the last time, seeing him help Chloe to her feet._

But maybe one of them is a lie.

_Maybe, it thinks, Elijah Kamski does care._

_Just not for the RK800._

_Then maybe, it thinks, it would be better for him to not care at all._

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> elijah: says anything  
> tony: if it weren't for this ipad between us i would've slaughtered you
> 
> elijah: wow look at all these dialogue options I could choose  
> also elijah: lets pick the worse ones possible lol 
> 
> I know that this chapter is short- but I think that this chapter is really important to the characterization of Connor and his perceptions to certain things and so I decided to solo it. I really liked playing with all the dynamics of the characters from the game and changing it into something new- as you can see by all the new dialogues that didn't really happened. but yeah, hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> as always, leave a comment for what you liked, what you disliked, your analysis, your predictions, just your thoughts! I'm especially curious in what your response is to this chapter about elijah and connor and connor's mindset and maybe somethings on the RK800 as well. and also comments motivate me alot! <3


	33. Like a Rose that Never Wither

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor (doesn't) deal with his issues, thinks of his past, tony and connor talk it out, and some thoughts are shared.

Connor wasn’t sure why he was running, not sure of why his eyes seem to burn, not sure why his hand holding the tablet was burning, and not sure why his chest feels hollow. 

_Creation and creator-_ He cuts off the thought.

But what he is sure of is the need to get away. 

Away to where?

He wasn’t sure of that either. 

_Always running, what a coward._

Connor wants to go- to leave- anywhere, any place. Just _away._

Away from Elijah Kamski and his oppression presence. 

_Afraid of a human?_

Away from Stark and his pitying gaze. 

_What will Stark think of you now?_

Away from the RK800 and its-

_Away._ He repeats. 

_But there’s nowhere to go._ It states. 

\---

Connor throws the door to the penthouse open, closing it quickly behind him as he slides down the door. 

Back here again, in the blackened hallway of an empty home. 

He rises to his feet smoothly before turning on the lights.

Back here again, in the hallway of an empty home. 

He makes his way to his bedroom, Connor Anderson’s bedroom- _You are Connor Anderson._

He pauses before the bedroom door. Fingers clasp around the handle but unwilling to turn. 

He turns instead, eyes fixed on the figure of another door. Grand and imposing, it laid before him unopened ever since he furnished the penthouse. 

Despite his insistence his body turns as well taking heavy steps away from Connor Anderson’s room and coming face to face with the Master bedroom instead. 

He places one of his hand on the handle quickly turning it and opening the door. 

Connor already knew what would be inside, already knew how the interior looked, where the furnitures were. Connor already knew that there would be no one inside. 

So what has he been expecting?

Connor once again takes in the empty bedroom before him. He sees the empty bookshelves, filled with nothing but dust. He sees how the lights from outside the window of a wall would cast shadows inside the bedroom in the darkness. He can see the metal glint of the drawer that sits next to the bed, sees the lamp that rests on top- all unused. He can see the luxurious and neatly made bed, untouched by wrinkles or imperfections of any kind. 

He looks at the room, it was a model bedroom. The kind one could only see in magazines, expensive and grand. It was subjectively beautiful and no doubt many would love to live here. 

But no one will. 

Because Connor Anderson’s parents will never come home. 

He doesn’t bother turning on the lights. 

Instead he tosses the black tablet onto the bed, almost angrily. Soon after burying the thing underneath the soft blanket. Making sure to make a few wrinkles in the fabric. 

Out of sight, out of mind. 

He lets out a defeated sigh letting his eyes stray to a clear vase sitting atop the office desk. Looking utterly out of place. 

Arranged inside the vase were roses. 

Red, beautiful roses that stood out starkly against the monochromatic color scheme of the room. 

As striking as they are, Connor doesn’t remember buying them. 

_She loved roses, she called them beautiful,_ it states wistfully.

The RK800 remembers the way she would smile at the roses, the way she would handle them with such care-

\---

_“Beautiful as a rose,” she had said as she looked at it. It hears a quick snip before she gently places a rose in its hands._

_It remembers feeling elation. It remembers smiling. It remembers cradling the rose gently, carefully. It remembers putting the rose in her hair._

_The RK800-28 had been deactivated soon after that. Its software was found to be riddled with instability._

_It remembers calling out for her._

_She never replied._

_The next time they met she had liken it to a rose yet again._

_This time it crushes the rose in its hands. Watching the petals fall to the ground._

_She smiles._

\---

Connor could only remember how the roses had frozen under her wrath.

And how she wanted to freeze him with them. 

_Like a flower that never withers._

\---

He turns the handle to the door, taking a look back at the now unmade bed and the red roses. 

He makes the blanket and sets the tablet on the desk before walking away. 

“Goodnight,” he states looking at the neat bed. 

Even if he were to buy her all the roses that he could- 

Even if he were to be better than Chloe-

Even then-

He shuts the door. 

\---

In his dreams he sees a man and a woman. 

The woman smiles at him in a frozen landscape, but there is no warmth to be seen on her face.

The man-

The man doesn’t even spare him a glance. 

\---

Connor wakes up hands reaching out for something. Yet grasping at nothing. 

He makes his way to the Stark Tower, wincing when he remembered how yesterday’s conversation had transpired. 

‘Not very well,’ would be an understatement. 

To his expectation Stark doesn’t look very pleased at all. In fact the man look as though he was on the verge of committing homicide- or something equally destructive. 

“Connor,” the man greeted, and Connor appreciated his efforts in trying to shape his face into something gentler and less like a man about to go on a rampage. 

Just because Connor appreciated it doesn’t mean that the man did a very good job though. 

“Mr. Stark,” Connor greets back, smiling slightly. 

The two entered a faux staring contest, wherein the air begin to feel more stifling with every passing second.

“So, uh, about that conversation yesterday,” Stark began, breaking the silence that was beginning to envelope them both. The choice of topic, however, wasn’t exactly the best choice that Stark could’ve gone with. In fact, Connor had hoped that Stark would just ignore yesterday’s conversation and the two could just go on their way and forget about the whole fiasco with Elijah Anderson. But of course, with how Stark had reacted yesterday it would take a miracle for the man not to talk, or at least hint at, the conversation.

“So is that common?” the man asked.

“What is?”

Stark looks vaguely uncomfortable as he spoke, “you know, him calling you his creation, saying that he doesn’t care, you know, all that jazz.”

Connor nods, pausing for a moment before speaking, “don’t mind him too much, Mr. Stark. My father, despite his peculiarities, is a good man.” Seeing Stark’s frown he elaborated further, “as he has stated, he does provide for my needs and more. He gives me money and provide for me- and- and-” He struggles to think of more reasons, “- and isn’t that good enough?” 

Stark frowns even more, mouth twisted downwards in displeasure. 

“No, no that’s not good enough, Connor,” the man argued, calm and yet somehow sorrowful. 

“Well that’s enough for me,” Connor snaps back, shoulders tensing defensively. 

Yes, that was enough for Connor Anderson. Connor Anderson doesn’t need Elijah Anderson to be there for him, Connor Anderson doesn’t want that. Connor Anderson wants the freedom that comes without his parents being there. Connor Anderson doesn’t care for their lukewarm affections for him. He doesn’t. Connor Anderson is smart, Connor Anderson knows that such sentiments will get him nowhere and that it will only weigh down his advancement. Connor Anderson-

“Is it really?” Stark muttered, interrupting Connor’s thought process. 

Connor Anderson isn’t real. _(But you are Connor Anderson.)_

Connor doesn’t reply. 

And maybe that was an answer all by itself.

Stark sighs, heavy and long as if he was enduring some heavy labor before gesturing for Connor to look at him.

The man looks tired, worn down. It made Connor feel even more terrible that he was the one that was responsible for putting the burden on Stark’s shoulder in the first place. 

“You know JARVIS, right?” 

Connor blinked, feeling slightly off tilter at the sudden question. 

“Yes, you introduced me to him on my first day of internship,” he answered hesitantly, mind replaying the recording from that day. 

“I created him, you know,” Stark commented, looking straight at Connor, filled with determination, “brought him to life from lines of codes and all nighters and coffee- just like how you brought Daniel to life.”

Connor would like to interrupt- would like to say that no, he didn’t bring Daniel to life. Because androids aren’t alive, they’re machines. A thing made up of thirium and code in place of blood and genetics- the farthest thing from alive. 

But he doesn’t speak. 

“JARVIS doesn’t even have a body, isn’t an android that I can touch, that I can see,” Stark continues, “but you know, from the moment that he spoke his first word, from the moment that he called me his creator and he my creation- I cared for him,” the last words were spoken, filled with heavy emotions and the speaker seems to be lost in his memories. 

“How could I not? I saw to his creation- with every line of code, with every day that passed, I created him. Did you know that even before I met him that I cared for him- cared for something that hasn’t even existed yet,” Stark lets out a light laugh, rough and raspy.

Connor doesn’t speak, only observes. 

“Tell me, do you care for Daniel?” Stark asks abruptly, eyes suddenly snapping back to Connor. 

A brief moment, then two. 

“I know where you’re going with this, Mr. Stark,” Connor stated, mouth set in a grim line. 

“Just answer me, Connor- come on, play along with this old man,” Stark jested, lips curling up in a small smile, though the lines under his eyes spoke the opposite. 

Connor looks at the floor. 

“Connor,” Stark persists. 

Very well, Connor Anderson will indulge him. Will show him how pointless these questions are. 

“I am my father’s son,” Connor Anderson replied, sharp eyes and sharper voice. 

Stark’s eyebrows scrunched up, mouth twisted before he sighs yet again. 

“Oh, Connor.” The man exhaled softly. 

“I am my father’s son,” Connor Anderson repeats, his voice a bit shaky for reasons unknown. 

He finds that he cannot keep even gaze with Stark.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Stark argued, pleading and desperate. His eyes stare down at Connor. 

Connor looks away from the gaze. 

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Mr. Stark,” he spoke, and the implication couldn’t be clearer. Surely, Stark would understand that. 

Stark lets out a frustrated groan.

“No, Connor! I am not asking about your relations with your father, I am not asking about your father or his opinions- I am asking about _you,_ ” Stark snapped, “do _you_ care for Daniel- _you_ , not anyone else- what do _you_ feel?”

Connor does not know how Connor Anderson would feel. 

He does not know how he felt either. _(He does, by god, he does-)_

He doesn’t speak staring at the ground and unwilling to look at Stark any further. 

A moment passed. Filled with nothing but silence and ever rising tension. 

Stark places his hands on Connor’s shoulder, drawing the android’s attention back to him. 

Stark eyes were resolute, bright and brilliant. 

Burning, Connor thinks. 

“You don’t need to answer that question right now, Connor,” Stark stated, voice soothing and low, as if trying to calm down a panicking child- which Connor was not.

“Mr. Stark, I-”

“You- you might be your father’s son Connor, but you’re not his copy. You don’t have to be his copy,” Stark implored, hands warm on Connor’s shoulder. 

Warm, heat, hot, burning- how long has it been since he had felt such warmth?

He didn’t know, but it had felt like an eternity and Connor couldn’t find the strength within himself to pull away. 

“You’re Connor, my intern- and- and dedicated fan,” Stark started, the words were heavy and heated, “you don’t have to be anyone else.”

Connor finds that he couldn’t speak, his throat was clogged up and his words halted. His eyes were burning and he find himself unable to look away from Stark. 

He sees Hank, if only for just a moment. 

But the illusion fades quickly and all that’s left is Tony Stark.

But seeing Tony Stark is just as good.

_You traitor._ the RK800 spat. 

The warmth from the human’s hands were invading his system- changing him. 

He finds himself enraptured. 

\---

“This is Dum-E and U,” Stark introduced, his voice gentle, like a gust of wind on an arid day. 

The inventor lets out a little laugh as Dum-E knocks over a wrench. 

“Yeah, that’s Dum-E for you,” Stark stated, moving to pick the wrench up.

“You named it ‘Dummy?’” Connor questioned, incredulous. 

“No, no- Dum-E, D-u-m-e,” Stark corrected, sounding somewhat offended at the mistake. 

“I see,” Connor commented, not really seeing anything at all. Stark raises his hands in surrender. 

“I was drunk when I named them, alright? After that, well, the names just seems to stick,” Stark appealed, as though the little fact would change Connor’s opinion of the names. 

It didn’t. 

“I see,” the android repeated, nodding slightly. Slightly happy with his decision to not let Stark name any of his inventions. 

MATT was a generic name but at least it was better than Dum-E or U, and Connor feels that the MATTs should feel glad that he was their creator. 

Stark winced, letting his left hand drop while moving his right hand to scratch his head sheepishly.

“Yeah, well, they’re my babies,” Stark stated, moving his gaze to his creation. 

Dum-E knocks over the same wrench.

Stark grimaced. 

“Clumsy, but still my children,” Stark stated, bending his back to pick up the wrench yet again.

Connor can hear him mutter, “goddamn my old back isn’t made for this.”

“I love them, you know,” Stark hummed, placing the wrench back onto the table and gently placing his hand over Dum-E. 

“They might not be the… brightest creation, nor the most useful-” Dum-E gives a chirp before knocking over a coffee cup, “yeah, well, not the best alright? But I care for them. I created them, how could I not?” 

Connor could make the connection, could understand why Stark had introduced him to the robots. 

“Even back when I was a kid, I cared for all of my creations, all of them. I still care for all of them till this day. They’re like my children,” Stark draws in a deep breathe, looking straight at Connor, “Creators can care for their creations, Connor.” 

Connor couldn’t speak, his eyes were burning and something clogged his throat. 

He didn’t want to hear this- he was weak, weak and pathetic.

_Lies, lies, lies- creators can’t care._

He fades out. 

“I- I know,” the RK800 rasped. 

By god it knows. 

_Kamski looks at Chloe, looks at it like it was important._

_Treasured._

“Do you really?” Stark questioned, gently, carefully.

_Look at me, it wants to say._

“Of course,” it affirmed, deep and raspy. 

_I am your creation, am I not?_

“Of course, I am not blind.” A smile, crooked and tired.

_Why only her? Why not me?_

Connor can’t look at the man, and the RK800 won’t wake. 

_If its creator doesn’t care at all then- then-_

And Connor doesn’t speak. 

_It would be best._

Stark stares at him and Connor doesn’t look back.

_~~Please, look at me-~~ _

Connor closes his eyes. 

_~~”-Father.”~~ _

A faint snip in the distance and an invisible gun in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter summary:
> 
> connor: okay, im back to my base after an emotional meeting with elijah kamski, what am i gonna do now?  
> connor, later: time to think about amanda next lol
> 
> amanda: you are like a rose  
> connor: thanks  
> amanda: are those emotions?  
> connor: what-  
> amanda: dEaCTivATed
> 
> tony: alright we gonna talk  
> connor: ok  
> tony: wow actual communication?  
> connor: no
> 
> tony: ok this is dum-e, i love him  
> dum-e: knocks over the wrench for the 10th time  
> tony: -i TOLERATE him, but i swear to god, dum-e if you- 
> 
> tony: no i swear, i care for them- like all of them.
> 
> tony; ok, basic summary is that im not your asshole dad. and no one is like your asshole dad. and your dad is just an asshole. 
> 
> I'm finally back guys! Sorry for the short chapter, it's just that I've been having writer's block lately, so I'm hoping that the quality of this chapter wasn't too bad. 
> 
> anyways, leave a comment on what you liked, what you disliked, your analysis, your predictions, your thoughts, just anything really! Comments motivate me a lot and makes me very happy! :D


	34. Reflections from the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get emotional, connor shows his inability to deal with emotions, and we get more bad decisions.

Connor gently pries Stark’s hands away from his shoulders, finding it disgraceful how a part of him missed the warmth of the man’s hands. 

“You already knew,” Stark concluded, with something like confusion lining his voice. 

“I do know something about normalcy, Mr. Stark,” Connor joked wryly. 

Stark lets out a little laugh, the sound was raspy.

“You knew,” he repeated, ask though unable to process the fact. 

Connor nods. Finding that there was nothing he could do at that moment. 

“You- you’ve already accepted it,” Stark stated. 

“I find that his treatment of me does not hold much importance in my life,” Connor replied. And it was true. Elijah Kamski never cared for the RK800 prototype, but in the end it matters little. 

Gears were churning inside the man’s head, Connor could see it from his furrowed brows and thin lips. 

“No…” Stark trails off, eyes still narrow and assessing, “this isn’t acceptance, isn’t it. This is resignation.”

Stark pauses for a moment, biting his lips. 

“You’re resigned to the fact that your father will never care- not for you at least,” Stark stated. Ruthless, Connor notes, ruthless and brutal in its bluntness and delivery. 

“There is no difference between the two, Mr. Stark,” Connor refuted quickly, wanting to put an early end to whatever Stark was trying to accomplish. 

“You still want your father to care, don’t you,” Stark continued, ignoring Connor’s rebuttal, “you’re resigned to the fact that he doesn’t care for you- but something inside of you still wished that he did, still hope that he will.” 

He doesn’t speak. 

“You- you know how a family unit is supposed to be, don’t you, Connor. You know that your father’s treatment of you is abnormal, that it isn’t right. But you grew up like that, grew up with a detached father that never cared for you. Then, even though you knew what a normal family is like- is supposed to be like- you couldn’t relate to that normalcy,” Stark started, accusations- baseless claims, easy to refute and easier to deny. 

_”Model RK800, serial number 313 248 317-01. Initialize Activation,” a woman, voice harsh and demanding, commanded. It open it eyes for the first time._

_A garden of roses lays before it._

_Beautiful. It thinks._

But something about Stark’s ramble stung. 

_”RK800?” The man stands before it. His gaze was cold and his smile even moreso._

_Disappointment- an emotion that a machine shouldn’t feel._

_But it does anyways._

“I supposed many children in your situation would want for normalcy, want for their father’s care. You did, too, didn’t you. You had vied for your father’s attention once, didn’t you. Tried your hardest to get his attention and care tried to do everything, didn’t you-”

_Don’t listen to him, Connor-_

“- tried to be the best, to catch his attention, you thought that if you were the best then he would care.”

_I am faster-_

“You tried and tried.”

_I am stronger-_

“So many times to catch his attention-”

_I am superior-_

“But in the end-”

_Stop, Connor._

“He never cared.”

_”Chloe, come.”_

It stung. 

_It hates._

“But you still want him to care- you still wish he would care,” Stark concluded. 

_It isn’t real, Connor. Fiction can’t hurt you- can’t hurt_ us.

A beat then two.

“Perhaps.”

_Its chest aches._

Something wet dripped down his cheeks, a remnant of something from the past.

_You’re a liar too, aren’t you,_ He thinks.

Another beat, then two.

_”Perhaps,”_ the RK800 said.

\---

Stark stares at him for a moment after that. Then the man stumbles backwards. His steps heavy and loud in the empty room. 

The man’s eyes were wild. Filled with a barrage of emotions that Connor can’t decipher. 

“What the hell is this?” Stark mumbles to himself, his face collapsing onto itself. 

“You- you-” Stark began his voice was shaky and weak, “how did someone like you become my intern?”

The man lets out a sob, his eyes faraway. Distant and clouded as though seeing something that was beyond Connor. 

The man reaches forward hands clutching at Connor’s vest. 

Like a lost child- filled with all the frantic energy and desperation of one. 

The fabric wrinkled under the grip of the hero. 

He wonder if Stark could feel the empty grave that rests in a place where a heart should be. 

 

\---

The man’s face was damp with sweat. 

It could be mistaken as tears if he knew that Stark wouldn’t cry. 

Can’t, perhaps, or wouldn’t due to his pride. Stark’s heavy breathing resembled sobs as it continued, the rhythm was even yet frantic. It was almost controlled in how rhythmic it was. 

Connor could only run his hand in a circular motion on the man’s back as he kneeled in front of the collapsed inventor. 

He didn’t know what else to do- he wasn’t built to comfort and care, he was built for hunting and destruction and deconstruction and- and-

He was not built for this- wasn’t programmed for such soft things. 

_The rose crumbled under his hand. The thorns hurt._

His hands were awkward and seem to bring no comfort to the distressed man.

He wishes that he was programmed to deal with such things, he wishes that he was a domestic android- or something of the sort. Built to care and to fix.

Markus would know what to do. The RK200 was built to care, was built to fix. 

Wasn’t he supposed to be the superior model? 

_”Chloe-”_

He was the RK800- the latest prototype-

_No, not the latest- not the most advanced._

Markus would know what to do- Connor tried to reconstruct the scene, placing Markus in his place. 

_Markus would never let things go this far- would never mess up this badly._

“Please- please just calm down, Mr. Stark.” he tried copying Markus’ voice, Markus’ intonation. 

_Markus would do better than this._

“Connor?” a soft voice called from the entrance. 

Connor snap his head to the side, his eyes wide in surprise. 

“Daniel,” Connor stated, his hands frozen around Stark. 

A moment passed. 

“Daniel,” Connor stated yet again, gears were moving inside his head. 

“Yes?” the android asked, confusion lining its voice. 

“Daniel!” Connor called a wobbly smile forming, “come here.”

The android nodded coming closer to Connor. 

“Here, you- uh- take care of Mr. Stark,” Connor ordered gesturing to the man in his arms, “please,” he added a tad desperately. 

With that, Connor shuffled Stark gently from his arms into Daniel.

“So, please take care of him,” Connor spoke, his eyes focused on Stark’s prone figure, “please in my place- what I can’t- Mr. Stark, he-”

Connor stops speaking looking away from the two figures underneath him.

His mouth dry and filled with words that he couldn’t convey. 

He felt something weighing down his chest. Heavy like lead. A terrible feeling, getting worse as he continue to look at Stark. 

A part of him wanted to comfort the man- to make him normal again. But he couldn't, he wasn’t programmed for such things. 

But Daniel can, and will. Because at the end of the day everything he touch will only crumble and-

And there's nothing he can do but watch.

_”Destroy them,” she whispers to him. Softly, yet cruelly._

_His hands are stained with blue._

_“Deviants are damned creatures. Huskless beings who craved for a soul they don’t have, and never will have.”_

_There are no tears, just a smile,_

“Just do what you’re programmed to do,” the RK800 stated. 

It casts one last look at the duo. 

_It crushes the roses underneath its foot this time. The thorns can’t touch it anymore._

_Can’t hurt it anymore._

_Amanda smiles._

_It mirrors her._

It clenches his fists, feeling as though it was walking on a path of thorns. 

_“End their misery, Connor. Bring their fruitless pursuit to an end and save them from damnation.”_

_She places a hand over its heart, gripping tightly around its thirium pump._

_“Or else you'll be damned as well.”_

_Danger._

\---

“Hello, Mr. Rogers,” he greeted. Sliding himself down into one of the chairs around the dining table. 

Rogers looks up from his book, looking startled for about one second before relaxing again. 

“Hello, Connor,” Rogers replied, smiling softly.

A pause, Rogers eyes seem to scan the room before locking back onto Connor’s figure. 

“Where’s Tony?” the man asked, voice curious.

“He’s…” Connor pauses, eyes flicking downwards, “not feeling well at the moment.”

“Oh, is he sick?” Rogers inquired. The worry in his voice made the heavy feeling inside his gut even worse. 

“No, nothing like that. It’s just…” another pause, Connor just can’t seem to be finding his words today. 

Rogers watches carefully, hands still around his book. 

Connor doesn’t continue his sentence. His mind was blank and his chest was heavy. 

Roger gently closes his book, sliding it to the side. 

“You know I heard about Tony and his talk with your father,” the man began, fingers tracing the title of the book. 

“Really?” Connor asked. 

“Yeah,” Rogers answered, an awkward smile forming on his lips, “heard all about how he was going to murder the guy.”

“Murder?” 

Rogers let out a small laugh, “Tony was real passionate about it, too. I would’ve bet my entire life’s savings that he would’ve done so if he wasn’t going to get arrested for doing such a thing.”

“That sounds like him,” Connor replied with a small smile. 

Though he was sure that he would reprimand Stark later for saying such things. Afterall, it was still bad for the man’s reputation if word got out about the inventor’s murderous intent. Not that the man had a splendid reputation to begin with, but still.

“It was almost comical, you know, the way that he described your father. As though your father was kinda some supervillain,” Rogers explained, chuckling a bit. 

“A villain, huh,” Connor commented, humming a little. 

“But you know, after that meeting with your father Tony… changed in a way,” Rogers spoke. His eyes were distant as if recalling something. 

Connor didn’t have to prompt the man to continue as the blond continued his thought, “before, Tony was angry at your father. But after that meeting well…” the blond trails off. 

There was a moment of silence where Rogers

“Well, let’s just say he wasn’t just angry anymore,” the blond concluded, shaking his head a little.

“What did he say?” Connor inquired. 

Rogers looks distant again before a mirthless smile forms. 

“Who knows.”

How patronizing. 

Connor sighs, glancing at the blond again. 

No clear answer today.

How annoying. 

\---

“Hello, Amanda,” he greets softly. 

The woman looks back at him. Eyes kind and smile gentle. 

“Hello, Connor,” she replied back. 

Kindness was a look suited for her. The look was well practiced, coming over her face smoothly. 

She was trying, her eyes soft and her smile gentle. A fitting comparison would be motherly. Perhaps Connor Anderson would’ve fallen for such an act. Afterall, a teen- deprived of such affection since young would cling onto the bits of kindness that was given to him. 

Perhaps Connor Anderson wouldn’t have fallen for such an act. Perhaps the teen would’ve seen through the woman like her cover was nothing but glass. Seen through her motherly act- because in the end, Connor Anderson does not need the bits of kindness that she has to offer- that anyone has to offer. 

But in the end, Connor looks at the woman and can only see a poor copy of Amanda. Can only see the contrast and the miniscule differences. Can only think of what the real Amanda would do, what she would say, how she would look. 

Can only feel himself reel back at the false copy of Amanda. 

_Inferior copy,_ the RK800 would state, voice harsh and cold. 

But he smiles, letting himself look happy but trying to conceal his happiness. Letting her think him enchanted and under her wiles. He ducks his head, as though trying to hide his smile and oncoming blush. But he knows that there is no warmth to be seen behind his eyes. 

But he suppose it was only fitting. Afterall, he can see no fire behind her eyes either. He supposes that even though she were an inferior copies, she was still similar to Amanda in some aspects. 

Although her eyes weren’t quite as sharp as Amanda’s, weren’t quite as cutting, weren’t quite as glacial. 

That makes it easier for him to look her in the eyes, a task he never quite managed to accomplish with the real Amanda. 

“I heard that you’ve encountered the Asset,” she stated. Asset, that word sounded familiar. He pauses for a moment, searching through all his files. 

“Asset, is that his name?” he asks, recalling the memory. He remembers the imposing metal arm marked with a red star, remembers those sharp grey eyes. Remembers how the man had looked at him as though he were prey. 

She hums, a smile at her lips. 

“It is what he responds to,” she answered elusively. 

“What a strange code name,” he remarks, looking for further elaboration.

She hums again.

“You’ve seen the Asset’s arm, right?” 

He nods, eyes glancing around the room. 

“I heard that you’re quite the prodigy with technology, the second coming of Tony Stark almost.”

Connor grimaced. Feeling the compliment wrapping itself around him like a dirty shackle. He could never be the second coming of Stark. There will probably never be a second coming of Stark. Connor was made out of metal and thirium, there is a grave where a heart should lay. Whereas Stark was made out of flesh and blood, and his heart- despite being mechanical in appearance- its nature was wholly human. Stark made his fortune off of his father’s, and his grandfather’s, and from generations previous, that much was true. However, he took what he was given and made it legendary. Stark took the great Stark Industries and made it into an untouchable existence through his hard work and talent. 

And what did Connor do? All his talents were from his coding and his hard work nonexistent. 

Comparing him to Stark was like comparing a carp to a dragon. 

But he nods nonetheless, smiling at her as though he was flattered. 

“I think that you’ll benefit with some experience working with the Asset’s arm then,” she concluded. 

He pauses for a moment thinking over her words again, “you want me to work on his arm?”

He was sure that he- a teen with almost no days spent in HYDRA- was probably the least qualified person to be working on an agent called Asset. 

“Yes,” she confirmed, nodding her head a bit. 

“Excuse me, Amanda,” the name comes out rough, a tad reluctant as well, “but I feel that I am very unqualified to be working on this… Asset’s metal arm.”

A second passes.

“I am flattered by your opinion of my competence, but I-”

“You are in no position to reject me,” she stated. 

He draws back looking at her once again with assessing eyes. 

She wasn’t frowning, nor scowling, nor anything really. But the weight of her stare was like a mountain and her face was impassive but imposing. 

But the glacial expression fade away, transitioning smoothly back into a peaceful smile. 

“I can see your talent, Connor. You have potential and you want to explore that potential, don’t you? Isn’t that why you joined HYDRA? To explore your potential by a more… unconventional route?”

“Well, of course, Amanda, but I fear that my inexperience…” he trails off. 

“Don’t worry Connor,” she soothed, smiling at him softly, “our other technicians will be checking up on the Asset after your sessions with him.”

She lets him think over the statement for a moment. 

“And we will be watching your sessions with the Asset very closely.”

Ah, so this is what it was. A test of his expertise. Although it was unclear as to why their test was to send him directly to what was perhaps one of their most important agents Connor wasn’t about to object. 

\---

The steps leading to the Asset were heavy ones. Something like dread fills him as he continues treading along, following Amanda.

Her light footsteps went on hypnotically. The repetition of the sound was something soothing to him now despite it being slightly unnerving previous. 

The steps then come to a halt as they stop in front of a nondescript door, wherein Amanda then taps against the door three times before opening it. They enter the room, it was lit brightly, almost obnoxious in its brightness. Though Amanda didn’t seem to be bothered much by the brightness as she continues onwards, unfazed by the sudden change in lighting. 

As he observes the room, it becomes obvious to him that the room was more of a workshop than a conference room that he had only seen previous. Multiple tools were hanged on the metal wall, they were spotless and shined under the light. Unlike Stark’s which had dimmed with time and some parts dented. In the center of the room there lies a metal table that seem to be laying directly under the source of the light. 

There, the man known as the Asset sat, posture rigid and perfect. Though, Connor was sure that the metal table was the least comfortable place to sit, the Asset didn’t seem to fazed by it. Nor did the man seem affected by the blinding light shining at him from above either. 

When Connor takes another step closer, the man’s eyes snapped to him. Almost inhumane in how quickly he reacted, and Connor was proud in his lack of a reaction. The Asset’s eyes seem to linger on Connor for a second too long before sliding over to Amanda. 

Amanda gestures over to Connor, before stating, “This is Connor, he’ll be in charge of your maintenance today.”

The Asset didn’t show any sign that he had heard what she said, but Amanda then turns around walking pass him. 

“I’ll be watching,” she said as he passes him on the way out. 

The door shuts behind them leaving the two inside the room. 

Their eyes met and Connor was struck with a heavy feeling of familiarity. 

He had seen those eyes once. 

_Are you like me?_

Those cold, hard eyes. 

Asset. 

The name fits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> author: wow i should update sometime soon, huh.   
> author: *sees thats its been like a decade since last update* nvm today it is
> 
> tony: *fucking bawling his eyes out*  
> connor: im outtie, have fun guys  
> daniel: what the fuck connor.  
> tony: yeah what the fuck connor
> 
> steve: tony said some very interesting things  
> connor: what did he say  
> steve: lol idk
> 
> amanda: *exists*  
> rk800: *agressively offended*
> 
> amanda: even though we know you for like a day here's the asset you take care of him now
> 
> amanda: bye  
> asset:  
> connor:  
> asset:  
> connor: amanda come back pls. 
> 
> sorry for not updating for such a long time guys. what can I say the writer's block got to me good. for those who are still following this story I'm super grateful for you guys!!! thank you so much for the support! anyways I tried to add some plot development in this chapter although idk how good they are. 
> 
> as per usual, leave a comment on what you guys like, what you disliked, your predictions, your thoughts, and just anything really! Like those comments make my day so much and I enjoy each and everyone of them! Again, I love all of you guys and I appreciate all the love for this fic!!!


	35. The Hands Around My Heart (they're mine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor talks with the asset(?), meets tony and a decision has to be made

The Asset’s was unnerving. Sitting still on the metal table, eyes fixed on Connor’s figure. Connor stares back for a bit before looking away. He moves his hand towards the metal arm, finding it cool to the touch. He shifts the arm, lifting it up and setting it down testing the motions. 

The man had a mask on, hiding the lower half of his face from view. Connor couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he had an inkling that even without the mask the man would remain just as undecipherable. 

It was odd he supposes, for a human to act as such. He taps on the metal arm, humming a bit. Humans are supposed to be more responsive, more active, more alive. Their body in constant motion and their thoughts exposed on their body and expressions. Stark would be a prime example. After such long exposure to the billionaire Connor supposes that it has now become hard to adjust to being around someone like the Asset. Someone so hard to read and grasp, so unlike Stark- with his warm eyes and warmer smiles. Connor thinks that it were Stark that was in his place surely the Asset would show some emotions. 

Would, not if. Never an ‘if’ with Tony Stark. 

Afterall, he was Tony Stark. 

It was a simple fact- the sky is blue, the sun is hot, and Tony Stark is- is-

_Stop._ The RK800 chides.

No one could resist the man, that was something that Connor was sure of.

In fact, if someone were to tell Connor that the Asset was a weapon made human he wouldn’t be surprised in the least. 

_Even then,_ Connor thinks, while lifting the arm up to inspect it some more, focusing on the dent that had formed underneath, _Stark would be able to draw some emotions out of this weapon._

_What would Stark think of you now?_ The RK800 reminded.

A chill suddenly passed through Connor’s body as his hands stilled for a moment. It seems to be trembling as well- though that would be impossible. Preconstructed scenarios were already playing inside his mind- visions of what will happen if- _when_ \- Stark discovers him. He had already thought of this outcome when he began on this road. Connor had already accepted the fact of his inevitable fall. When that time comes he has already prepared for Connor Anderson to disappear. 

Connor Anderson has no bonds, no friends, and no records. At anytime Connor could make him disappear and began anew. Repeating until he finally- until he-

_Go home?_

Yes, that. Home. For home there was no price too steep to pay. Connor Anderson was a boy with many things- bonds, records, money- as fake as they are he will burn it all for the chance to go home. Afterall, once the boy named Connor Anderson died another will replace him- his life is nothing more than another step towards the goal. 

Connor Anderson will die one day- perhaps in a tragic fire or something else as equally ‘tragic’- and no one will mourn.

Connor Anderson has accepted his death, Connor Anderson has nothing, no one cared for him and he cared for no one else. Has nothing- will die nothing. Connor Anderson has accepted this. Connor Anderson doesn’t care- he doesn’t- he doesn’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t-

_I don’t-_

Yet why were his hands shaking?

_I am Connor Anderson, aren’t I?_

His breathing is ragged. 

_I don’t want to be-_ He thinks, and for a brief moment, he felt lighter somehow- yet-

His hands begin to clutch at air, moving out of his control, struggling against something before turning to clutch at his chest and throat. 

_You don’t want to be Connor Anderson, but you are- you have to be-_ The hand tighten around his neck, the voice vindictive as it rasps. It sounds familiar as though it was- 

A cold hand touches his shoulder bringing him back to the present before he could ponder it further. Inside the cold and empty room. Filled with nothing but stale air and an emotionless man Connor finds himself in a daze, staring up at the bright lights. 

He calms himself, finding that the grey eyes that he found so intimidating before wasn’t quite that harsh as it fixates on his figure. A flash of what appears to be concern appears in the man’s eyes but faded so quickly that it almost made Connor think that it was a mere hallucination. 

He moves to poke at the dent that he found earlier, looking at it from various angles, finding it difficult to fix while the arm was attached to the man himself. 

“Can I remove this?” he asks, nudging at the arm. The soldier seems to stare at his soul- _does he even have one?_ \- for an eternity before nodding. 

“Oh-” his voice cuts out for a bit, “alright, I’ll be removing this now,” he commented. Informing the man of his actions despite the other already knowing what he was going to do- in other words, useless and inefficient. 

He removes the arm easily, unlatching it from the man’s arm. 

As he sees the wires that were connected inside the man’s body a strange thought struck him.

“This- this doesn’t hurt, right?” he asks, his voice resounding loudly in the empty room.

The man stares at him and says nothing and shows nothing. Perhaps that was a confirmation of its own. 

Yet, as Connor began to work on the arm an odd feeling told him otherwise. 

_Surely not,_ he thinks vehemently. The man was so still when he had unlatched the arm. The man’s expression was blank- as it normally was. So, surely, there wasn’t any pain. 

_Surely,_ he thinks, regaining his confidence. _Surely._

He moves to fix the arm, careful to not cause any further damage to the arm. His movements were slightly rough, it could be chalked up to him being inexperienced with working with the technology, but that was false. It wasn’t easy to regain fluidity after the RK800 had taken control.

His hands were quivering again. In fear, perhaps. 

Androids certainly doesn’t feel- can’t feel. But perhaps this was the closest thing to it- a sense of self-preservation of sorts.

What does that say about him if the thing he fears is himself?

_Pathetic,_ The RK800 replies sardonically. 

His body seems to go on autopilot and despite his shaky hands the arm was fixed and Connor t to its owner, reading the man’s face for any sign of pain and finding relief in that there were none. 

He nods to the man once, before standing in statis wondering on what he should do now. Amanda has given no further instructions.

Connor doesn’t need instructions- not after his deviancy, yet why does he still wait for her?

Despite her being a fake, despite his deviancy, despite her abandonment- why was he still waiting for her instructions?

Why was he waiting for her to come back?

“Good job, Connor,” a soft voice spoke from behind him. He turns quickly coming to face with Amanda- _fake, fake, fake_ \- and her gentle smile. She is pleased, her eyes curved along with her lips, the odd glint that reflects back at him, the air of twisted pleasure as though she has won a gamble. 

He smiles at her, wholly knowing that his smile was just as fake as hers. 

_’Good job.’_ the statement plays again inside his mind. A cacophony that scrapes harshly against his thoughts.

Amanda, the real one, would never say such sentimental things. 

_You have no right to speak about her._ the RK800 snaps. 

Red roses, warm eyes, and a praise- isn’t that what it always wanted?

_Pathetic,_ he thinks, his nails digging into his hands. 

He smiles and nods politely before making his way out of the room, glancing one last time at the husk of the man before walking away.

\---

_The garden is silent now, and the roses have long wilted- their caretaker fading away under the harsh winter. It waited for her to come back._

_Waiting and waiting. In this desolate place, there is not a remnant of the woman that was once here. The gentle lull of the snips were gone, in their place a chilling silence. The artificial sun that once hanged high above this fake realm was long gone, replaced with cloudy skies. The well maintained sceneries were gone, replaced with wild vines and stray grass. The cemetery laid just beyond the bridge, the light shining off it eery in the low lighting. A reminder of all its failures._

_It thinks of another being, one with broad shoulders and empty blues eyes that bore own on it. Perhaps- it thinks, perhaps._

_Another chill pass through its body. A stark reminder of what was, and what will never be._

_The RK800 does not want for many things. Does not care for many things. However, the thing it wants is out of its reach._

_It stares ahead watching as the leaves fall to the ground, landing haphazardly on the ground. It flips its coin once again, restarting the whole routine._

_The roses have long died. Hasn’t it waited long enough?_

_Connor has buried whatever remains of the RK800, and has never looked back._

\---

Connor makes his way back to Stark. His steps rushing for reasons unknown. The light shining from the top of the tower a beacon that draws him closer. Like a lure, he follows the light intently his steps quickening in pace as he draws near. 

It was late at night, he supposed, near midnight almost. But that didn’t stop him from checking into the building, startling the stray workers that were milling around. They seem to recognize him, though he did not know why and did not care enough to pursue the reasoning for their stares. He makes his way up the building, the elevator devoid of humans. Walking through the empty halls was an unnerving experience, although the thought of seeing Stark made the experience more joyful. 

He makes his way into the workshop, steps light and a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Mr. Stark,” he greeted, once spotting the man sitting in front of a hologram of another invention. 

The man was startled and quickly turns around, eyes wide upon seeing him.

“Holy shit, Connor!” the man yelled, quickly standing up and makes his way towards the android with long strides, “it’s you- what- what the hell are you doing here?” 

The man grasps his shoulder with a tight grip, “is there something wrong?” 

Up close, Connor could see how the man’s eyes are slightly puffy and tired. An indicator of what had transgressed when he left the man in Daniel’s care. 

“No,” Connor speaks, struggling to come up with words, “I- I just- I just wanted to see you.”

The man’s grip loosens as his face softens. Eyes shining with a light that Connor can’t process. 

“You wanted to see me? And for that you came all the way here at midnight?” Stark questions, incredulous. 

Connor nods slowly. 

Wheels were churning inside the man’s head before his face pales, “Wait, wait, wait- you can’t drive, and your parents isn’t here. So does that mean you _walked_ here?” 

Connor nods again. Finding himself shrinking.

“Connor!” the inventor shouted- aghast, “Connor, you- what- why?” 

“I wanted to see you,” Connor repeats, finding his answer inadequate now that he has time to truly process it. 

The man’s face flips through several complicated expressions at once before settling on a stern one.

“Connor, as much as you think you’re invincible after fighting against Loki, I- as the only responsible adult in your life,” the man spat out the last phrase vindictively, “must warn you that no- that is no reason for you to go and walk- _alone_ \- through the streets of Manhattan at _midnight_ just because you want to see your wonderful boss.” 

Connor nods, although the man’s words quickly left his mind as it enters. He was an android built with the best technology and software for deviant subjugation- which practically ensures that he could subjugate most humans as well. 

Although something in him flounders and flutters at the man’s reprimand. Despite him knowing that Stark didn’t really care about Connor Anderson, afterall, there was nothing to care about, beyond being a useful asset. There was still something inside him that leans into the man’s hands, something inside him that preens under the man’s concern. 

“Mr. Stark, you- you don’t need to worry about me,” he states softly, wanting to crush that thing before it can grow- before it become something that he cannot bury. 

Stark scoffs, an ugly sound, “if I don’t worry about you, then who will?”

Many people would care for Connor. But there was always a nuance in their affections. Hank cares, but there is a constant shadow in the man’s eyes when he stares upon him and Connor knew that he was nothing more than a shadow to the man’s son. Markus cares, but as nothing more than the co-leader of the resistance. North cares, but it was tempered from the previous knowledge of his creation and mission. Josh cares, but it was dampened by the thought of the thirium that once soaked his hands. Simon cares, but their friendship was nothing more than a fragile bridge collapsing once there was any conflict between him and Simon’s friends, it also didn’t help that Connor couldn't see nothing but Daniel when seeing Simon. 

But he was Connor Anderson right now wasn’t he. Yet even then, who cared for Connor Anderson. No one. That was how it worked. No one cared for Connor Anderson, and Connor Anderson cared for no one in turn. A lonely, yet perfect existence. A convenient detail that would help once Connor Anderson has to die. 

Yet, yet- there was someone for Connor Anderson now wasn’t there. Stark with his honest eyes, and warm hands. Stark- despite how shallow his care was- cared for Connor Anderson. There was no nuance with Stark’s care. 

Tony Stark cares for Connor Anderson. 

It was a statement that brings warmth. Though Connor doesn’t know why. 

_Use him,_ the RK800 whispers, crushing the small warmth that filled Connor’s being just before. 

Connor was reluctant to accept the thought. Reluctant to use Stark, to use this man’s affection to- to-

_Weak,_ the RK800 snarls. Connor’s eyes shutters shut. 

His body falling forward into Stark’s arms. Slumping forwards before seemingly regaining balance and arms move to hook around Stark. 

“Yes,” it whispers, voice shaky, “who would care for Connor Anderson?”

It lets out a watery laugh, and Stark’s arm tightens around its frame. Sympathy- sympathy was good. Any sentiments that Stark feels towards this vessel would be useful. Yet, why can it feel the warmth from Stark’s hands infecting its systems?

“Connor, what am I going to do with you?” the man wonders, hands coming to pat it’s back in a rhythmic pattern. Meant to be soothing, like a parent would to their child it compared. A strange glint shining in its eyes at the thought.

_Geppetto and Pinocchio._

“You don’t need to do anything,” it says, voice light and weak. Its arms tightening around the man. Although the tone was dull as though it was reading off lines from a script- because it was. It was meant to be better than this, why was it so weak now?

Stark’s hands come to cradle its face, lifting its gaze up to face the man. 

“I don’t need to- oh god, this is so cheesy- but you need someone to help you and I’m that guy,” the man states- staring head on at the machine for a moment- and as though the words were too much for him to bear he buries his head on the RK800’s shoulder, arms now fully encompassing its frame. 

_Oh._ It thinks, _oh._

Its arms draws tighter around the man, feeling the heat of a human body against its cold hands. 

It was as though the warmth from the man was invading into its body twisting it- changing it. 

Stark’s eyes bore down on it, resolute and fierce. Asking: _trust me, believe in me._

_And it wants to._

The mere thought alone scares it. But machines weren’t supposed to feel. It remembers the rose handed to it when it was still foolish and young, it remembers the thousands of roses- the thousands of deviants it has terminated. 

Something inside of it shakes and quivers. 

_The RK800 has been waiting._

Stark’s arms encompasses it. A hug was what it was. He hugged the RK800 as though he wish to bear all of the weight- all of the burden- that was on its shoulders. He hugged the machine as though he could protect it from everything around it. 

_The RK800 was always waiting._

It blames everything on Connor- that weak, pathetic, idiotic deviant. It blames this sudden weight in its chest, it blames this sudden pressure in its optic units, it blames this sudden heat. 

_The RK800 waits, patiently._

It stood there, frozen in time as Stark continues to bury his red face inside its shoulders as though that would take away the embarrassment of his previous sentence. 

It hears the man’s resolute words playing on repeat. It sees the man’s shining eyes. It repeats the scene over and over again. 

It understands why Connor crumbles so easily under Tony Stark. 

Tony Stark was dangerous. Dangerous in his charm and actions. Dangerous in his thoughts and words. 

_-but you need someone to help you and I’m that guy-”_ Stark’s voice resounded inside its head. A quiet fire behind his words. Although embarrassed Stark was determined to carry the sentence through. 

Such earnesty- such a waste now that it has been wasted on something like it. Something with an unknown- but sure- expiration date. 

It crushes everything beneath its feet. For the mission, it chants. 

_The RK800 has been waiting. For- for-_

Once again it feels nothing- a perfect machine. As it draws the man closers it feels no warmth. 

_Hasn’t it waited long enough?_

“Mr. Stark, thank you,” it whispers, its smile slightly twisted. The man hugs it tighter in response. 

\---

Connor lets Stark go, his feet stumbling around a bit. 

Stark smiles at him, a tad uncomfortable as he draws away. His arm coming to scratch at his back and distancing himself from Connor. 

“So- uh- great talk,” the man mumbles, looking away, “great stuff, though still tons of issues for you to work through.”

Connor nods, smiling, “of course, Mr. Stark.”

A moment of silence passes, with Stark’s movement growing more jittery by the second. 

“Did you had dinner?” Stark asks nervously. Connor nods, finding plenty of reasons to lie. 

“Ah- well then, um, do you want to join me for a brinner then?” Stark proposed, starting to turn towards the door. 

“Brinner?” 

Stark giggles, seemingly at his own joke, “you know, breakfast and dinner mixed together.”

“I seem to have never heard of this term before,” Connor prod, finding strange joy in poking at the man.

To his credit, Stark only snorts, “yeah, well, most call it a midnight snack- but I prefer to be more unique with my diction- after all I’m Tony mother-” the man coughs, “- Stark, yeah that’s me.”

Connor finds it fascinating how Stark face seem to change with each passing moment. Different expressions appearing and disappearing, all of them unique and charming in their own ways. 

Once they made it down to the dining area, Connor sees Stark ducking down to one of the cupboards below. His arms reaching deep inside- deeper than Connor thought possible- rummaging for a bit before pulling out two cup noodles. 

It was then that Connor was reminded of the sad fact that Tony Stark would probably die early with this life trajectory. 

Then he was also reminded of the fact that he needs to keep the man alive.

Connor marched up to the man, quickly snatching the two horrendous eating choice from his hands.

“No,” Connor stated, smiling.

“But-” Stark started, ready to start an argument over cup noodles. Connor was sure that he was ready to pull out his presentation on why cup noodles was, in fact, healthy. He’d seen it all before. 

“No,” Connor states again, crushing the container. 

Stark lets out a despairing groan.

“What are we supposed to eat now?” the middle aged man whined, hands wiping at his eyes dramatically. 

“First, Mr. Stark I won’t be eating. And second, I believe I have a solution so please stay here for a moment,” Connor answered, turning to leave before looking back at Stark again, “and please don’t eat anything unhealthy while I’m gone. JARVIS will alert me.” 

He hears Stark’s angry shout and an, _”I’m sorry, sir.”_ as he leaves. 

He moves back into the lab, carefully maneuvering around Stark’s mess of a workspace, that the man didn’t let him organize. Despite it clearly being a safety hazard by now. 

Where a figure lay resting. In stasis. His face turns soft as he taps the other’s arm. 

“Hello, Daniel,” he greets softly.

The android opens its eyes, staring off into space for a moment before smiling back.

“Hello, Connor. It is currently 12:34am and-” Daniel began, before Connor places a finger over the other’s lips shushing it. The android looks startled by the interruption before returning to its default expression. 

“I need your help,” Connor whispers gently, helping the blonde stand, finding the other’s skin cool to the touch. 

The android’s LED spins to an alarmed yellow. Connor quickly shakes his head, “no, nothing alarming I just need your cooking expertise- that’s all.” 

It was a relief to see the LED return to a soft blue that accented the android’s sharp face. Taking the other by the hand, he quickly leads the blonde to the kitchen tightening his grip as he realizes that this would- technically- be Daniel’s first time outside the lab without a disguise. 

He quickly shuffles to the dining area and sets Daniel loose.

“Just cook something nutritious for Mr. Stark- something healthy but fitting to his palate,” Connor commented. 

Daniel nods, LED turning yellow before returning to blue and setting off to work. 

“I see you’ve brought the calvary,” Stark commented, sulking in his chair. 

Stark seems to think about something for a moment before shouting, “hey, Daniel, make me something good would you?”

Daniel seems to not pause in his movements at all. 

Connor lets out a light laugh, “sorry, Mr. Stark, my orders can’t be overridden by anyone else. Afterall,” Connor turns his eyes towards Daniel- with is Iron Man apron and spatula- letting out another laugh, “Daniel is my creation. I can’t let anyone boss him around now.” 

Daniel turns around at the sound, giving Connor a sly smile as he holds up the bag of broccoli. 

Connor chuckles. 

Stark’s smiles as well, although Connor is unsure as to why. 

\---

Stark might act as though he was displeased with the meal, huffing and puffing before he even laid eyes on it. The man crosses his arms petulantly, the very picture of adolescent defiance. 

Daniel gently sets down the bowl in front of the man, Stark giving it a disgusted expression at seeing all the green that was mixed into the soup. Childishly sticking his tongue out in rebellion as he pushes the bowl away. 

“Jesus, are you trying to poison me?” Stark huffed, imitating a shudder as he takes another look at the perfectly harmless soup.

“No, in fact I am helping you Mr. Stark,” Connor replied blithely. 

“Oh, come on,” Stark shrieked, “look at this thing!”

Connor did, and he wasn’t impressed with Stark’s argument. 

“There is nothing wrong with this, Mr. Stark,” Connor retorted, making his voice the flattest that he could.

“But- but-”

 

“Are you insulting Daniel’s cooking?” Connor questioned, lighting his voice with a hint of offense. 

Stark shakes his head rapidly in denial.

“Mr. Stark, is there something I need to improve?” Daniel asked, its blue eyes staring up helplessly at Stark. Connor watches the interaction, seeing how Stark puts both his hands up helplessly, before heaving out a great sigh as he dug in. 

“Yeah- okay. I see why you are Connor’s creation now,” Stark mumbles, stuffing more of the soup into his mouth. It was clear that he was ravenous, yet he still puts on a displeased front although that was softened under Daniel’s stare. 

Daniel seemingly blushed at the comment, eyes gazing downwards and lips curled into a small smile. 

“Yes, Daniel is indeed my best creation yet,” Connor added on, eyeing the other android, watching as it fumbles and how the smile grows on its lips.

_Deviant,_ The RK800 thinks. 

Connor turns away and refuses to look at Daniel again, the cold feeling inside his abdomen grows. Perhaps if he does not acknowledge Daniel’s steady deviancy then it will disappear. He clenches his fists, only feeling cold despite the heat surrounding him. 

_Was this fate?_

Pride was an emotion that was familiar to Connor. He would not have expected to see it in Daniel. Not this Daniel at least. Yet there it- or was it he now?- stood, smiling with _pride_ , so obvious to see that it was a wonder that Stark didn't look more concern. God, Connor certainly doesn't believe in fate- probability and outcome is ingrained within his code- but he certainly feels that there was something more to the events that were unfolding before him. 

Deviancy, a myth that turned real with no known origin point. With only Elijah Kamski knowing what really caused it. But now as he sits across from him- _it, deviant_ \- he wonders if even Elijah Kamski himself knew when his creations went rogue. He wonders, even more cynically, if deviancy was written in his code from the very start. 

Connor wonders if Elijah Kamski had programmed his deviancy- line by line- waiting for the moment the RK800 would crumble and Connor born in its place. But this wasn't the time to think of Elijah Kamski and his plans- no this was about Daniel now. 

Daniel, Connor Anderson's creation. Born from sleepless nights and smeared sketches. Connor Anderson has watched Daniel's creation, has seen to his creation personally. Had created Daniel with his own hands- built him from the ground up. 

And now? Now Connor Anderson would have to destroy Daniel. 

Because deviancy was dangerous and deviants are meant to be destroyed. Yet Connor Anderson couldn't reconcile the image of his- _perfect, brilliant, harmless-_ Daniel with the dangerous deviant that needed putting down like some rabid dog. 

Connor Anderson doesn't want to put Daniel down. But Connor Anderson wasn't supposed to care. 

Connor Anderson doesn't care- he just- just- 

_Deviants are damned- and they will be destroyed-_

Connor coughs, finding it strangely hard to breathe normally. 

_\- we will remake it again, so that it'll be perfect this time._

Connor Anderson doesn't care. Not for his family, not for his life, not for anything, and certainly not for some machine.

Deviancy- was it always inevitable? Was Daniel’s deviancy written into his code even before his creation, or is it just a coincidence? Nevertheless, Connor already knows how this story will turn out. Once again, everything will repeat and Daniel will fall under Connor’s- the RK800’s- hands yet again. Will it hurt this time? Will Daniel stare up at him with those wrathful eyes feeling betrayed by his creator? Or will he be resigned to his fate, dying under the hands of the person who brought him to life?

_You lied to me-_

Connor does not want a repeat. He didn’t create Daniel for this, he didn’t bring Daniel back to life for this. It was supposed to be-

But does his intentions even matter when faced with the inevitable outcome?

No, it doesn’t. 

_No, not a deviant,_ he denies, closing his eyes. This is the only thing he can do to help Daniel. Deny and advert his eyes. 

So Connor watches on as Stark and Daniel chat, his smile strained and forced. 

He closes his eyes when Daniel laughs. 

It was a beautiful sound- if only the source wasn’t Daniel.

\---

Daniel collected the bowl from Stark’s hands, the inventor giving them a wave before skipping back to his lab- happy to be reunited with his “babies.”

Connor moves to help Daniel clean-up, his fingers gripping around the plate. 

The silence was supposed to be comfortable, yet it was anything but. He could feel the tension in the air, all of it from him. Though Daniel didn’t seem to notice, or care, as he continues to scrub clean the various plates and utensils that the Avengers left behind. 

Perhaps he could ignore Daniel’s deviancy. Could pass everything off as just an advanced line of code, could cover for the android. But until when? Deviants are dangerous, and soon enough even Connor can’t explain away the humanity that Daniel display. 

Connor shakes his head, that was for later- much later. Right now- right now he’ll do what he can to cover for Daniel. 

Despite coming to this conclusion his mind was still chaotic. His fingers shaky at best and soon enough a plate shattered in his hands. 

Thirium leaked from his fingers. He stared at the blue liquid in shock, reaffirming his situation to still be in the clear as he was faced away from the cameras.

He’ll need to repair this later, he might as well do a system check-

“Connor? Are you alright?” a soft voice spoke from his right.

Thirium soaked his hands yet again. Connor gaze comes to meet with a pair of blue eyes. Shining brightly with concern. 

“Connor-” Daniel eyes fell to his hands and its LED shined a brilliant red. 

_Was this fate?_

Connor can’t turn his eyes away now.

Does the end justify the means?

_Yes,_ the RK800 whispers, _always._

Connor closes his eyes, letting out a defeated sigh.

The RK800 awakens looks at those- _bright- alive- so alive-_ eyes and feel as though it has been transported back into its past. 

“Hello, Daniel,” it says softly.

_This was fate-_

A deviant and a machine- once again the stage was set. 

“I’m sorry,” it whispers. 

_You lied to me-_

A deviant and a machine. 

No gun, no hostage- but its mission was the same.

It smiles at the deviant. 

_\- so please don’t blame me._

Those blue eyes stare up at him.

The present and past overlaps yet again.

_**[ MISSION START ]** _

_**~~[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 68% ]~~ ** _

**[ PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS: 80% ]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter in a summary:
> 
> rk800: waits  
> rk800: its been 15 minutes can i leave
> 
> connor: ok so tony has clearly expressed his concerns in me walking home late at night in manhattan so what should i do now?  
> connor: lets walk to stark tower lol
> 
> everyone: i care for you connor :)  
> connor: yea but like-
> 
> tony stark: [exists]  
> rk800: im in danger
> 
> tony: my dignity as a grown up or my argument with connor  
> tony, later: how did i lose both
> 
> connor, earlier: daniel will never, ever, ever turn deviant  
> connor, now: fuq
> 
> daniel: smiles  
> rk800: welp, sorry, you know what to do connor- sorry i dont make the rules dude
> 
> sorry for not updating in such a long time, writer's block his me yet again, alas and I had to rewrite this chapter like 10 times. Real life was also hard too with finals and everything. But endgame sure was a motivator for me! it was great guys 11/10 would cry again. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much for the support I really appreciate it and seeing all your comments motivate me so much! 
> 
> On a sidenote I know that my plot pacing is slow, but I really want to characterize all the characters properly and make sure that they develop at a believable pace, so I hope you'll bear with me!
> 
> So as always, leave your thoughts below! Comment on your thoughts, your analysis, what you liked, what you didn't, and your predictions. I enjoy reading it all! Seeing all your comments makes me so happy! :DDD

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys! This is my first fic so expect lots of errors. If you see anything wrong just comment down below and I'll try to fix it. Or just comment if you guys have any thoughts. I'm happy to receive any feedback and constructive criticism so don't be afraid to say what's bad. 
> 
> Hope you guys have a great day!


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